


Reunion

by SalishSea



Category: Beauty and the Beast (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-14 15:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 35,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2196447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalishSea/pseuds/SalishSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven years ago, in the war torn hell of Afghanistan, two young lovers came together in joy and ecstasy, only to be torn apart. Thinking the other dead, both are stunned when, seven years later, they learn the other is alive. Is there a chance for their brief love to be rekindled, or is the damage irreparable so that what they had is lost forever? AU.  COMPLETE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For the past seven years she'd thought he was dead.

Catherine Chandler kneaded her hands nervously, looking up from the table toward the coffee shop door. Each time it opened she flinched, expecting to see the walking ghost of a man she had hardly known, but had thought about every day since she had left Afghanistan seven years earlier. A man whose death she had grieved, a loss so painful it defied the logic of their short-lived affair, but not the love of it. A love that had burst inside her the first instant his pale green eyes had captured her own.

Catherine held her breath as another patron stepped into the warm, humid shop, escaping the below freezing winter weather outside. It wasn't him. She let the breath out slowly, the tension in her arms and shoulders almost painful now. The butterflies in her stomach did their best to make her nauseous. Her body nearly thrummed with anxiety - and fear. The same fear that had engulfed her two days ago when she'd screamed in repressed sorrow and then sobbed with joy as she'd read an email from an unknown address.

" _I can't believe I've found you. I need to see you. Please. It's really me. Vincent."_

At first Catherine had been wary, wondering if the email was a cruel, sick joke perpetrated by someone she had told about Vincent. But she could count on one hand the number of people with whom she'd shared the ecstasy and tragedy of her time working as a doctor for the Red Cross in Afghanistan. She had quickly dismissed the possibility that the email was a prank. After several responses back and forth she was convinced it was really Vincent. He knew things - intimate things, sacred things - that only Vincent could know. But she'd remained cautious, not revealing her phone number or address, finally agreeing to meet in this crowded coffee shop in the middle of the afternoon.

This whole thing frightened Catherine. She was scared that all of the feelings she'd fought so hard and so long to overcome - the grief, the loss, the love - would come rushing back to her. She wasn't sure she could survive those feelings again, only to live a life without him in it. But this time it would be worse than before. It would be worse, because this time he would be alive.

The tinkle of the bell mounted to the top of the door sounded as it opened and Catherine jerked her head up, wondering if this would be him. But it was just another cold Chicagoan looking for a warm cup of java. Catherine looked at her watch. Ten after four. He was late.

She'd been waiting for him seven years ago. Just like this. And he'd never shown. She'd waited a long time before she'd given up that night. Now it felt as if she'd never stopped waiting.

Catherine looked down at her hands which continued to fidget, as if with a mind of their own, and then smiled after a moment. When she and Vincent would arrive at the medical clinic storage shed in the back of the Green Zone base compound for their clandestine rendezvous, Vincent would pull her into his lap and take her nervous hands into his own.

His hands were large and strong, rough and calloused as befit the soldier he was. But they were warm and gentle and loving. He brought each of her hands slowly to his lips, caressing them softly. "There," he said. "Better now?"

"Ummm," Catherine hummed as she closed her eyes and leaned into his chest. Vincent slowly laid back onto the old hospital cot, Catherine lying on top of him, cradled in his arms. "Much better," she sighed as she snuggled into his warmth. His arms came around her and she felt safe. _Safe_ was a special feeling in this place of war and death. A cherished feeling. A gift. And Vincent gave her that gift freely.

"Where were we?" Vincent whispered into her ear, nuzzling his nose against her cheek. "Oh, yeah. You were just starting middle school."

Catherine giggled and launched into a continuation of her life's story from where she had left off before. She knew after a short while it would be Vincent's turn to continue his own personal saga, which was very interesting at this point because he had reached high school and was becoming interested in girls.

Unlike most couples in love they didn't talk about their days. Not when her days were spent in the ER trying to patch bloody soldiers and civilians back together. Not when his were filled with fire-fights and bombings and death. Instead, they told each other who they were, how they had grown up, their lives' stories.

But the whispered words and hushed laughter lasted only so long until the warmth of Vincent's body ignited a fire within her. As Catherine lay on top of him and gazed into his eyes she saw his own need reflecting hers. She brought her lips to his. Not crushing, nor frantic. But with need and purpose, and the trust that he would meet her with the same need and purpose. The kiss was warm and full and deep, and as their tongues dueled and their bodies writhed Catherine knew she needed to feel his skin on her own. She needed to feel him underneath her, inside her, moving with her as one. Without thinking, only a few minutes later, they were exactly that.

"I love you," Vincent whispered into her hair as she lay panting on his chest, spent and gloriously happy. She knew he meant it. She could feel it emanate from deep inside him. And she knew it because she felt the same way.

"And I am so grateful for that," Catherine murmured. "I love you too, you know," she said.

"I think you've finally convinced me," Vincent said with a chuckle.

Catherine heaved a contented sigh and sank deeper into Vincent's embrace, knowing that too soon their time together would end and they would have to endure several lonely days apart before their next rendezvous. But she would take what she could get. And in this horrible spot of the world she had found heaven. He was hers and she was his.

The tinkling of the bell pulled Catherine from her reverie and she looked up toward the door. Her breath caught in her throat. Emotion exploded within her - joy, sorrow, fear. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest it hurt and the blood rushing in her ears was so loud it was hard to hear.

He scanned the coffee shop, his face anxious, nervous. His beautiful face. As he turned Catherine took in a sharp breath. On his right cheek was a long, angry scar. It was ugly and reminded her of the horrible place they had been. Suddenly she wasn't sure this was a good idea. What did he want? What would she say? And why had he never tried to find her - until now.

Sweat trickled down her spine and Catherine's muscles were wound so tight she thought she might explode out of the chair. Maybe if she ducked down he wouldn't see her. She turned and looked behind the barista counter toward the kitchen, wondering if she could run out of the shop's back door. Maybe that would be the best for them both.

Catherine turned her head back toward the door and froze. Vincent Keller's pale green eyes were locked on her and as she stared back at him his smile slowly turned down into a frown.


	2. Chapter 2

_I couldn't have worn these shoes in Afghanistan, they'd be full of sand by now_ , Vincent thought nervously as he trudged down the downtown Chicago sidewalk, trying to keep his mind off of his destination and who - he hoped - waited for him there. God, he hoped she was there.

Vincent pulled his coat collar tighter around his neck as he glanced down at his oxford loafers crunching - one foot in front of the other - on the hard crusted snow. He remembered his tan combat boots crunching on the Afghan village's sand covered street.

He jumped out of the Humvee with the rest of his patrol to secure the village's single story community center for it's once weekly use as a Red Cross health clinic. It was already scorchingly hot at ten in the morning as the sun beat down mercilessly. Sweat trickled down his spine under the 70 pounds of combat gear covering his body.

Vincent pulled the sling of his M4 rifle so it hung to his side and brought up his tablet computer. As communications officer he was responsible for monitoring satellite video surveillance feeds of the area, checking for signs of enemy presence on the ground. His fellow soldiers secured the permitter and interior of the building and finally his captain gave the signal for the volunteer Red Cross staff to exit their Humvees and enter the building to start their work.

Vincent walked over and opened the back door to one of the two Red Cross vehicles to assist the doctors and nurses as they climbed down. He held out his hand to help the person seated by the door but his gaze was elsewhere, scanning his surroundings for threats. Only his fingertips were exposed through the open ends of this combat gloves, but that was enough. Enough to change his life forever.

His proffered hand was gripped by the Humvee's occupant, his finger tips brushing across bare skin. An electric jolt shot up his arm and through his body. He sucked in a quick breath and jerked his head around and down, staring at the hand held in his.

The hand was small and soft as silk. His eyes took in the rest of the woman it belonged to. She was petite, but even the desert pattern CAMO fatigues and flack jacket she wore didn't completely hide her soft, feminine curves. Dark, auburn, shoulder length hair shimmered as the Afghan sun played across it. Her lips were pert and drawn together under a slightly upturned nose. But it was her eyes that drew him in, captivated him. Almond shaped and dark forest green. There was emotion swirling behind her eyes, feelings he couldn't decipher.

As he looked at her she didn't move to exit the Humvee. She was frozen. Then Vincent realized he was as immobile as she, caught in a moment of time he wished could go on forever. Pulling his attention back from her eyes he saw the stunned look on her face as she stared back at him, a look he knew mirrored his own. Had she felt it too? Had the same delicious charge of electricity awakened her body as it had his? Was that the emotion that stirred behind her eyes?

He blinked and the spell between them was broken. He continued to hold onto her hand as he glanced at her name patch. _Chandler_. "Doctor Chandler?" he asked, not sure if she was a doctor or a nurse.

She nodded. "Corporal Keller," she said, acknowledging his name as she eyed his own name patch.

Vincent continued to stare at her, not sure what to do next.

After the awkward silence stretched out a few more beats Dr. Chandler pulled against his hand, levering herself out of the Humvee. "Thank you," she said, a shy smile on her face as she ducked her head. She gathered her feet beneath her and let go of his hand.

The loss of her touch sent a chill down Vincent's spin even in the oppressive heat, an empty feeling rising up in his chest. At that same instant he saw her smile dip down into a frown. Could she have experienced the same feeling? No, that was just wishful thinking.

Vincent watched her as she walked inside the building. He and his fellow soldiers would stand guard over Dr. Chandler and her colleagues. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. He vowed to himself that no harm would befall her, not while he could still draw breath.

Two weeks later Vincent pulled Catherine to him and before he could initiate the kiss she had grabbed the back of his neck and drew his head down bringing his lips to hers. The kiss was passionate and warm - and inexplicably familiar. It wasn't like the other first kisses he'd experienced. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation. He dropped every emotional wall, opening himself up to her completely. It felt right and he knew deep inside he could trust her with his very soul.

Not long after that kiss Vincent found himself hidden away with Catherine in the secret spot she'd found in the storage shed behind the medical building on the base. Their first time was fast and hard and passionate. Both needing to immerse themselves in the other. To revel in the sensual joy of hard muscle against soft curves. To claim refuge from the horrors of war in the sanctuary of each other's heart. It wasn't long before their love making grew softer, more tender, stirring feelings in Vincent beyond the need for flesh and relief.

Vincent's breath came hard after his release. Sweat dripped from his forehead mingling with Catherine's already sweat soaked hair. Hovering over her his hands pushed up on their precarious perch against the edges of the old cot to support his weight. He shifted to move off her but she would have none of that as she tightened her legs already wrapped around his waist and clasped the back of his neck with her hands, pulling him down so that he covered her, his full weight on her.

Vincent collapsed against her, surrendering to her desire to remove any space between them. He melted into her and she pulled him closer. Waves of emotion swelled up from his depths, filling his gut, tightening his chest. He felt protected by her. He felt loved by her. He felt safe. He surrendered to the feelings overwhelming him, his body racked with sobs of relief and joy and love as he buried his head into Catherine's shoulder.

After a few moments Catherine's worried voice whispered into his ear, "Vincent, what's wrong?"

He sucked in a breath and tried to calm himself. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing's wrong."

"Then what is it?" Catherine asked.

"Everything is right," Vincent said. "Everything about you …, about us …, everything is right." He paused, struggling for another breath. "I know it's only been a few weeks, but after everything we've shared I feel like I've known you my whole life." He buried his head further into Catherine's shoulder. "When we're together it's more than your body I crave. And when we're apart …, I feel empty. I count the hours until I can see you again."

Vincent felt Catherine nudge his head up from her shoulder, guiding it with her hands until his eyes met hers. "I love you," she said. "I've never been so sure of anything in my entire life."

He nodded and stared down at Catherine's face, so soft, so loving.

But Catherine's face wasn't soft or full of love right now as she sat across the coffee shop, staring at him. He thought he'd never see her beautiful face again. But now, with his greatest desire come true, her face wasn't soft and loving, but panicked and fearful. She looked like a deer in the headlights, ready to bolt.

His own anxiety welled up inside. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Maybe she didn't feel the same way he did, the same way they felt seven years ago. Perhaps it was the scar on his face, the ever present reminder of the bomb that took the lives of half of his unit and almost took his own as well.

Panic surged through him as he stared across the bistro at Catherine. His body being to shudder and he realized he had made a horrible mistake contacting her, asking her to see him. Vincent spun on his heel and bolted through the coffee shop door back out into the frozen Chicago afternoon.


	3. Chapter 3

Catherine sat, stunned, watching Vincent run out of the coffee shop as if it were on fire. Where only a moment before she knew seeing Vincent again was a bad idea and she had been looking for an escape route, now frustrated anger roiled up inside her. Fear of her feelings - so long repressed - disappeared, replaced by a burning need to confront him and find out where he'd been and why he'd let her think he was dead for all these years.

_No you don't. You do not get to leave me again. Not without an explanation._

Catherine shot out of her seat, grabbing her coat and rushing toward the door without taking the time to put it on. Exploding out the door she looked left past the crowd of heads walking down the sidewalk. There was no sign of Vincent's brown, unruly hair. Panicked, she whipped her head around to the right, frantically scanning for Vincent. She saw him, walking quickly away down the sidewalk. Catherine sprinted after him, fighting to keep her balance on the snow covered sidewalk, jostling past pedestrians as she pushed forward.

"Vincent!" Catherine called after him. She saw his body stiffen and he picked up his pace. No way was she letting him leave her. Not again. But his legs were longer and he easily expanded the distance between them. She scrambled forward, trying to move faster. "Vincent Keller!" she shouted. But he continued to outdistance her.

She put on a burst of speed and her foot slipped on the treacherous ice sending her sideways into a mountain of a man walking in the opposite direction. She bounced off the huge man who seemed hardly effected by her weight and crashed to the sidewalk.

Sprawled out on all fours with her coat on the dirty snow behind her, tears of anger burned her eyes. She'd lost any chance of catching up to Vincent now. He was gone, dissolved into a sea of humanity. Catherine sat back on her calves, ignoring the stares of passersby as grief welled up from deep inside, tightening her chest and pushing out the anger that had been there only moments before. It was the grief of years past, familiar and unwelcome. She began to shiver from the frigid air as she looked down at her trembling hands, tears trickling down her cheeks.

Staring at her hands she sensed someone in the crowd step closer, probably wanting to see if she was all right. Too ashamed to look up Catherine felt the good samaritan drape her coat over her shoulders and move around in front of her. Two hands reached out gingerly to grasp hers and at the stranger's touch a jolt shot through her - the same powerful pulse of electricity she'd felt seven years before in the middle of the desert. Terrified she might be hallucinating she raised her head slowly, coming face to face with the pale green eyes she knew so well and thought she'd lost forever.

Vincent didn't say a word. He pulled her up gently, encouraging her to climb to her feet. Onlookers still stood staring at her. Catherine's mind raced as she stood, her hands grasped in his, their eyes locked together. Joy pulsed through her that he had come back for her, replaced a heartbeat later by confusion at what his return meant. Then anger rushed through her. Anger that he had run from her, abandoned her.

Her anger broke the spell and she jerked her hands from his. Catherine lurched forward, shoving Vincent hard in the chest, driving him back a step. She saw the look of stunned surprise on his face but it didn't deter her. She stepped toward him following his retreat and bought her fists up and against his chest. A guttural scream, primal and full of anguish, erupted from her throat as she pounded her hands against him over and over, never wanting to stop, wanting only to beat down the rage until it released its hold on her. Hot tears streamed down her face as she continuing to pummel him with balled fists.

Catherine felt Vincent retreat slowly from her onslaught. But he didn't turn or pull away. He stayed close enough for her to continue to pound on his chest in rage. And she let fly. Years of sorrow flowed out of her. Every day of grief, every night of loneliness, every ounce of despair she'd endured poured through her clenched fists until she could barely raise her tired arms. As her blows faltered she felt Vincent's arms loosely encircle her waste, not trying to stop her, but supporting her as she began to weaken in exhaustion. Gradually her pounding fists slowed and eventually came to rest on Vincent's chest. He pulled her the rest of the way to him, bringing her into his protective embrace.

Catherine pushed her head into Vincent and cried. Gut wrenching sobs made it hard to breathe. She let him hold her, not sure she could stand on her own if she pulled away. But she didn't want to pull away. No matter how unsure or painful this seemed it felt so good to be back in his arms. She was safe in his arms. Safe from the gawking onlookers. Safe from the frigid winter chill. Safe from the lonely world that waited for her.

Minutes passed and years of pent-up emotion left Catherine's body. Her sobs softened until she was able to breathe again. She didn't look up and Vincent didn't let go. She pushed harder against him and felt him tighten his grip around her. He didn't say anything. He just held her. And that was exactly what she needed. Vincent had always known exactly what she needed, from the moment they had met. And she had missed that. God, she had missed him.

After a while Catherine could breathe without gasping. She kept her head against Vincent's chest and said softly, "I thought you were dead. They told me …," she paused, choking in a hard breath, "they told me you were dead."

"I know," he said, his face pressed against her hair, just like she remembered. "The Army told my parents I was dead, too."

His answer surprised her, but she refused to pull back even one inch from his embrace, so she kept her head buried against him and asked, "What happened?"

Vincent heaved a deep sigh. "The explosion took out half my unit. I was wounded and knocked unconscious. The blast ripped my vest and shirt off along with my dog tags. When they found my tags by one of the bodies, in all the confusion they thought it was me. They medevaced the survivors north to Kabul. I was in a comma, but stable. They flew me to Ramstein. I woke up two months later. For a while they didn't believe me when I told them who I was. Finally a doctor logged into my enlistment records and when he pulled-up my photo he knew I was telling the truth. A month later I got shipped home."

Catherine peered to the side and saw that the onlookers had dispersed. But that didn't quell the anxiety that had begun to raise it's ugly head again. Her stomach clenched as she thought about what she wanted …, what she needed …, to ask him next. But she wasn't sure she was strong enough to hear his answer. Maybe he'd fell out of love with her. Maybe he'd been too ashamed of the disfigurement of his face. Maybe it had just been a short-lived relationship of necessity within the insanity of war, each taking comfort in the other's arms. But she had to know.

Pulling back from Vincent, Catherine kept her hands on his waist, still unwilling to release him no matter how scared she was of the question she was about to ask. Vincent kept his hands on her shoulders, reluctantly letting her draw away from him. Catherine steeled her nerve and looked into his eyes. "Why did you wait for seven years to find me?"

Vincent's face paled in pain and she thought she saw wetness brimming in the corners of his eyes. He turned his head and looked away, taking in a shuddering breath. "Oh god, Catherine."

Shocked by his emotion Catherine gripped his waist tighter. "What?" she said.

Vincent turned back to her, the anguish in his face palpable. He drew in a hard breath that hissed between his teeth. "I though you died in Kandahar."


	4. Chapter 4

Catherine stared in shock at Vincent, not believing her ears. "Wha …, what did you say?"

"I thought you were dead," he repeated.

"Why?" she sputtered. "How?" Her body had started to shake again and she wasn't sure if it was from her surprise or the cold.

Vincent pulled her back into his warmth. "In due time. But first, let's get you out of this ice box." He turned them toward the street and hailed a passing taxi. It pulled over and Vincent opened the back door and slid in, pulling Catherine in after him.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked, looking at the two of them through the rear view mirror.

Having just flown in from New York that morning and being unfamiliar with Chicago Vincent hesitated at the cabbie's request.

"North Lake Shore Drive," Catherine chimed in. "Take Fullerton Parkway to Geneva Terrace."

"Up by DePaul University?" the cabbie said.

"Yes," Catherine replied.

The cabbie pulled out into traffic setting a vector north.

"Where are we going?" Vincent asked, putting his arm around Catherine's shoulder and pulling her close into his side.

Catherine snuggled in under his arm. "My place," she said, matter-of-factly.

Surprised, Vincent brought his hand to her chin and turned her head up toward him. "I didn't mean to come barging into your life. I don't have any expectations. We could go to a restaurant if you'd like. Talk over dinner."

Catherine shook her head once, her face resolute. "No," she said. "We've got a lot of ground to cover and I've had enough onlookers for today."

Vincent groaned but nodded.

"Now …, what did you mean - you thought I was dead?" Catherine asked.

Vincent settled back into the seat and wrapped his other arm around her, holding her against him.

"After I woke up in Ramstein I asked about you. But no one was willing to help me. I was so weak and disoriented I couldn't do a thing but lie in bed. It took a while but finally a nurse took pity on me and started following up on my request. One day she came into my room. She looked so sad and I knew right then what she was going to say."

Vincent shuddered, remembering the pity and sorrow on the woman's face.

"She told me you were dead. That you died in a helicopter that was shot down ferrying Red Cross medical personal to Bagram to return to the States."

Vincent clutched Catherine closer to him, afraid if he didn't hold onto her she might dissolve into nothing as he continued to recount the horror of his experience.

"I …," Vincent stopped, choking on his words, unable to speak past the tightness in his throat.

Catherine turned in his arms to look up into his face, her eyes wide. "All this time you thought I was dead?"

He nodded.

Catherine reached up and placed her hand on his scared cheek. Vincent pulled back just a little, but she must have seen his discomfort because she increased the pressure of her hand and began to lightly stroke his cheek. It was clear she wasn't put off by his scar and wanted him to know it. "Oh, Vincent, I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault," he pushed out, uncomfortable with her hand on his disfigured face.

"I know. What I mean is …," Catherine paused and swallowed, "I know what it feels like. I thought you were dead, too."

At her words Vincent realized she really did understand the anguish he'd been through. At least, she understood if she still loved him like he loved her. He hoped with all his heart that was true. But the fear of her rejection - that she wouldn't want what he wanted - stalked the dark recesses of his mind.

Catherine dropped her hands and turned, positioning herself as before, leaning against him with his arm around her. She stared out the cab's window.

"I was scheduled to be on that helicopter," Catherine said. "I was supposed to go home that day. But I got word a member of your unit had been released from the hospital in Kabul and was returning to Kandahar. I needed to talk to him. I needed to find out what happened to you. So I stayed for another day."

Catherine took in a slow breath, then blew it out. "Some good friends died in that helicopter. So many good people died over there." She was quiet for a long moment, her body tense against him. After a while she continued. "I wanted to die," she whispered, still staring out the window. "When I found out you'd been killed, I wanted to die too. When the helicopter was shot down I wondered why God hadn't granted my wish - why he would be so cruel as to let me live and suffer." She reached and brought his other arm around her, squeezing his hand tightly. "Now I know why."

Vincent's heart soared. She still did love him, at least it seemed liked she did. And he knew her pain, the aching emptiness that made it hard to go on day after day. He, too, had wondered why he'd been spared a merciful death only to live in quiet despair believing that Catherine was gone, never to return. If she felt the same way as he, the prayers he'd spoken over and over in his mind on the plane from New York to Chicago might have a chance of coming true.

"I'm so sorry," Vincent said softly as he pressed his lips to her hair again. He calmed as he breathed in her familiar scent, a hint of jasmine perfume and vanilla shampoo. "If I'd known you were alive … nothing on this earth could have stopped me from finding you."

"I really need to believe that, Vincent," Catherine said, her voice soft. "Now, more than ever, I need that to be true."

Vincent heard the hesitant tone of Catherine's voice. "You don't believe me," he said quietly, worry starting to grow.

"It's not that I don't believe you," Catherine said. "To be honest, I'm scared to death."

Vincent stiffened at her words. "You're afraid of me?" he asked, his voice tense.

Catherine turned around in his arms again, facing him. Her eyes were wide. "Of course I'm not afraid of you. I could never be afraid of you." She pulled away from his side so she could take both of his hands in hers. "I know you. I know your entire life's story. I know what you treasure and I know your deepest fears. And you know me that way too." She squeezed his hands tighter and he relaxed as she continued. "Anyone who knows you could never be afraid of you. You're my hero. You always have been and always will be."

"Then what are you afraid of?" Vincent asked, puzzled.

"I afraid of what this all means - the two of us discovering after seven years that we're alive. Will our lives change? If so, how?" Catherine shifted in her seat, sitting upright to face Vincent more squarely, her hands still holding his. "In my head, I have doubts. I'm afraid of change. I'm afraid of being hurt again. I don't ever want to hurt that bad again."

"I would never-," Vincent started to respond but Catherine cut him off, putting a finger to his lips.

"I know," she said. "My head says one thing, but my heart …," she paused, pulling his hand to place his palm on her chest over her heart, "… says another. My heart sings right now. My heart is full of joy and more happy than I can ever remember." Catherine captured Vincent's eyes. "And I choose to follow my heart today. I choose to spend the rest of the day figuring out what I'll be doing tomorrow. And I'll take it a day at a time after that." Catherine leaned back into the seat. "Does that make any sense?"

Vincent felt Catherine's hands trembling in anticipation of his answer as she held onto one of his while pushing his other against her chest. Relief flooded through him. He knew exactly how she felt, what she meant. She looked up at him, her face earnest and he couldn't help but smile. "Yes," he said, "that makes all the sense in the world."

Catherine's hands stopped trembling.

"And as far as taking it one day at a time goes," Vincent said, "any time I can have with you is a gift. One day, one hour, one minute - I'll take whatever you'll give me and I'll be the most grateful man alive."

Catherine let out a breath and Vincent saw her shoulders relax. Her hands were warm on his as she continued to clutch one of his hands to her chest, grazing the swell of her breast under the soft silk of her blouse. He could feel her heart beating fast. His own heart was pounding. There was longing in her eyes. And need. He felt it too.

Slowly he brought his face down toward hers. Her eyes softened and her lips parted, her tongue darting out, barely brushing her bottom lip. Her breath was warm on his face with the velvet smoothness of coffee and musk. She smelled like the Catherine he remembered. This was Catherine. Here. In his arms. And he loved her. Vincent closed the remaining inches, drawing his eyes shut and his lips apart.

Suddenly the cab was filled with the staccato sound of marimba music. Startled, Vincent snapped open his eyes. Catherine jerked her head back and gave him a sheepish frown, reaching for her coat pocket.

"Is that your phone?" Vincent said, incredulous, his breathing slightly labored.

"Damn it," Catherine said, flushed and a little breathless herself. "I'm sorry. That's the hospital's text tone. I'm on call."


	5. Chapter 5

Vincent nodded, understanding Catherine's need to pickup the text message. She was a dedicated doctor and her devotion to her patients was one of the things that had attracted him to her. She'd always wanted to be a physician, he'd learned that as they'd shared their hopes and dreams during their precious private times in the storage shed.

"You still an ER doc?" Vincent asked.

Catherine finished reading the message and slipped the phone back in her coat pocket. "Yeah," she replied.

"I'd think after Afghanistan you'd want to do something else."

Catherine chuckled. "After Afghanistan the ER at Mt. Sinai is a cake-walk. I really love it in the ER. I can save lives there. I make a difference."

Vincent leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "I would expect nothing less." He pulled back. "Do you have to go? We can meet up later."

"Not on your life, Vincent Keller." Catherine smiled fiercely and grabbed the front of his coat. "I am not letting you out of my sight. I only need to consult with the treating physician for a gunshot victim I patched up yesterday. Some misunderstand about his chart. It won't take long. You're coming with me."

"But-" Vincent sputtered.

Catherine cut him off. "No buts." She turned toward the driver. "Sir, change of plans. Would you drop us off at Mt. Sinai Hospital please."

"Can do, ma'am," the cabbie said and shifted course.

Twenty minutes later Catherine lead Vincent through the double doors of the ER and up to the nurses' station.

"Hey girl. What are you doing here?" said a tall, slender nurse with chocolate brown hair and eyes to match. She walked around to the front of the desk and embraced Catherine.

She was attractive with dark skin and a low, gravely voice that was very sexy. Vincent couldn't help but admire her. But his eyes kept coming back to Catherine, still wondering if this was real or only a dream.

"Lowen called. Seems he wants to consult about the kid I fixed yesterday," Catherine responded.

"The kid who got shot?"

"Yeah."

"That's a load of crap," the svelte nurse said. "He just wants to see you and he'll use anything as an excuse."

Catherine flushed red and a tinge of jealously pulsed through Vincent. Who was this Dr. Lowen and did he and Catherine have a thing?

"Knock it off, Tess," Catherine said. "Gabe just wants to clear something up. That's all."

"Dr. Dreamy is still interested," Tess chided as she pulled away from Catherine. Tess looked up and caught Vincent's eyes. "And speaking of dreamy … hello to _you_ ," she said, enthusiastically.

Catherine chuckled and then gave Tess a mock growl. "Hands off, Vargus."

"Okay, okay. Don't get your undies in a bundle," Tess said. Taking a step back she put her hands on her hips and gave Catherine a thorough once over. "What's up with you, girl?"

"Huh?" Catherine said, obviously confused.

"You're different. You're more relaxed than I've seen you in a long time and you didn't even freak-out about Lowen." Tess turned to Vincent. "Whatever you're doing for her, you keep it up, you hear me."

Vincent felt his face flush and he ducked his eyes.

"Watch him for me while I set Gabe straight," Catherine interjected. "I'll be back in five minutes. Do _not_ get any ideas or no more chocolate peanut butter brownies for you."

Tess gave Catherine a pout. "You're no fun," she said and then let out a laugh.

Catherine turned to Vincent. "This is Tess Vargus, my best friend. And she was a Captain. So she outranks you, Corporal. That means you have to do what she says. Got that?"

Vincent snapped to attention and gave Catherine a salute. "Roger that, sir."

Catherine rolled her eyes but her smile was beaming. "I'll be right back." She set-off down the hall and disappeared through another set of double doors.

Catherine sauntered down the hallway toward Dr. Gabriel Lowen's office with a spring in her step and a smile on her face. She hadn't tried to explain the strange man to Tess. She was still stunned by his presence. Everything felt so unreal and she wasn't sure she knew how to broach the subject. She'd figure it out when she finished with Gabe. But it wasn't such a bad problem to have, introducing the love of your life who you thought was dead to your best friend - sharing the miracle of a second chance for happiness. Her grin widened at the thought.

As Catherine approached Gabe's office she refocused on the task at hand - answer Gabe's questions and get back to Vincent as quickly as possible. A dull angst had already started to fill her chest for leaving him behind. Maybe she should have brought him with her, that way if he got cold feet again she could stop him from running away. Her chest tightened and she shot a nervous glance back down the corridor even though Vincent was several hallway twists and turns behind.

Now she had to deal with Gabe. Even if Gabe was using this as a ploy to see her, she could handle it. Gabe could be a little preoccupied, even a little possessive, but he wasn't a bad guy. And she'd made it clear two months ago that she didn't want a permanent commitment. Gabe had been attentive in their short-lived relationship and the sex had been great. But she just wasn't able to go further, even though he wanted to. He'd been nice, even understanding, when she'd broke it off. But he also hadn't given up hope and was still pining away for her.

Catherine stopped outside Gabe's door. Taking a steadying breath she steeled her nerve. _Okay. You can do this. Let's get it over with._ Catherine knocked on the door and at Gabe's call to come in she turned the handle and entered his office.

Gabe shot up out his chair and walked quickly out from behind the desk. Before Catherine could say anything he wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. "Catherine, thank you for coming on your day off." He pulled his head back and looked into her eyes. "I've missed you," he said, his smile beaming.

Gabe was a beautiful man, attractive, smart and very sexy - definitely all male. He could also be aggressive. He knew what he wanted and he went after it. He had also been good to her. Showering her with attention and gifts. But whatever it is that was supposed to click when you found the person you were to spend the rest of your life with, it had never clicked with Gabe.

Catherine was startled as her body automatically melted into his, moulding to his familiarity. Cursing her body's betrayal she put her hands on Gabe's chest and pushed gently back. Gabe kept his hands on her shoulders and looked her over. His eyes narrowed and his brow scrunched, but the smile never left his lips.

"You look incredible," Gabe exclaimed, giving a nod of approval. "You're so relaxed and your skin - it's practically glowing. And you feel wonderful." He pulled her back toward him, his mouth moving toward hers. But at the last instant Catherine turned her head and Gabe's lips found only her cheek. He kissed her and pulled back again. "Sorry, he said. But you're just buzzing with this electric sensuality. It's hard to resist."

Catherine felt her face heat with a bashful blush. First Tess and now Gabe had commented on how good she looked. As far as she knew she didn't look any different. But she felt different inside. She felt excited at Vincent's appearance. She was humming with anticipation for what the evening might hold. And the prickle of the anxiety underneath everything made her body tight and overly responsive to Gabe's energy. All of that must be coming through in some way that Tess and Gabe had noticed but couldn't explain.

"Have dinner with me," Gabe said. "A good meal. A glass of wine. Candlelight. You deserve that, Catherine. You deserve to be adored."

Catherine shook her head and stepped out of Gabe's embrace. "Thank you, Gabe. But, no."

Gabe let her go, still smiling. "You know I'm not going to give up. You're special. A man would wait forever to be with you."

 _One already has_ , she thought.

"You called about the kid I patched up yesterday. Tell me what I can do to help," Catherine said.

"Actually, I think I've got it figured out. I was having trouble reading your chicken scratches on his chart. I was finally able to decipher a couple of things. It got so busy the past half hour I forgot to text you back and let you know." He flashed an apologetic smile. "I'm off in fifteen minutes. Please reconsider having dinner with me."

Rolling her eyes Catherine took another step back. Tess was right. This had all been a ploy for Gabe to spend time with her. "Gabe, it's sweet of you to offer, but I …, umm …," she stammered for a moment, then continued, "I ran into an old friend and I'm gonna hang out with him the rest of the day. He just flew in from out of town and we haven't seen each other in ages." Catherine felt only a twinge of guilt because it was all true, to an extent. "He's waiting at the nurses' station with Tess."

As the last words left her mouth Catherine cringed, knowing she'd made a mistake.

"Great!" Gabe said. "Old friends are one of life's treasures. Introduce me to him. What's his name?"

Catherine knew this was Gabe's way of sticking his nose into her business, checking out the competition and maybe even unconsciously marking his territory. Her lips twitched in hesitation. _Why am I so nervous? I never told Gabe about Vincent. He won't recognize the name. Vincent's just an old friend from a long time ago._

"Vincent," she said. "Vincent Keller."

Gabe took a step back, his eyes bolting wide in astonishment. His jaw dropped and he looked like he might keel over from a heart attack. "Not the army guy?" Gabe said, almost in a whisper. "He's dead."

Stunned, Catherine felt herself mimic Gabe's expression. "How do you know about Vincent?" she asked nervously.

Gabe didn't seem to hear her. "It can't be him," he said, still staring at her. "He died in Afghanistan."

Catherine felt the hair standing on the back of her neck as pin pricks of anxiety ran up her arms. How could Gabe have found out about Vincent? Not from her. That was a secret part of her life she'd never shared with any of the few lovers she'd taken over the years.

Gabe stood, dumbstruck. "It _is_ him, isn't it? Or, at least you think it is."

"How do you know about Vincent?" Catherine demanded again.

Gabe stared at her. "Tess told me," he mumbled through his confusion.

_Tess. Goddammit. What the hell was she thinking? How could she betray me like that?_

"What did she tell you?" Catherine growled angrily.

Her outrage seemed to snap Gabe out of his trance. "She told me about Vincent because she didn't want me to get hurt. She didn't want either of us to get hurt." He pulled a hand through his thick black hair, his thoughts obviously turned inward as he spoke. "She's really protective of you. And she says she likes me, although sometimes I'm not so sure." His attention snapped back to Catherine, fully alert now. "Don't be mad at her. She only did it because she cares."

Catherine scowled at Gabe. She'd shared that intensely personal part of her life with Tess in confidence. It wasn't Tess' place to share it with anyone, no matter what her intentions. _I'm not that much of a basket-case around men, am I?_ she thought.

Fuming, Catherine turned and headed out the door on a mission to give Tess a piece of her mind.

"Catherine, wait," Gabe called after her. A few seconds later he pulled up beside her and clasped her elbow as she stalked quickly down the hall. "Wait a minute. Calm down."

Catherine pulled free and walked faster. Gabe didn't try to hold her back and matched his pace to hers.

"Look," he said, "how do you even know this guy is Vincent Keller?"

She gave Gabe an impertinent glare and rolled her eyes, quickening her pace.

"Okay, okay. Dumb question. But how is it that he's alive?"

"They mixed up the identities of the soldiers after the explosion." She gulped, feeling sick to her stomach as memories came flooding back. But Gabe deserved an explanation. "He was in a coma. They didn't correctly ID him until three months later."

They turned a corner and headed down the last long corridor. Catherine's breathing was becoming labored while Gabe's longer legs allowed him to keep up with her easily.

"Fine. But where the hell has the bastard been since you left Afghanistan?" Gabe growled, anger in his voice. "That was over seven years ago and he just left you hanging on - suffering - since then."

They pushed through the last set of double doors. Catherine could see the nurses' station and it looked like Vincent and Tess were standing behind the counter near the wall. Tess was animated, her arms flailing and her voice loud. Catherine knew Tess was mad. Something wasn't right.

As they stepped up to the counter Gabe finished his tirade. "Why the hell did he wait until now to find you?"


	6. Chapter 6

After being introduced to Tess, Vincent watched Catherine disappear down the hallway heading toward the mysterious Dr. Lowen's office. An emptiness crept up and filled his chest. It was an act of will to keep himself from running after her, to not let her leave his sight.

"I meant it," Tess said.

"Beg your pardon?" Vincent said, turning to face her.

"Keep doing what you're doing. I haven't seen Cat this relaxed and happy in a long time. Oh, and sorry about the Dr. Dreamy thing. I tease Cat about that a lot. Gabe's a good guy and he's totally infatuated with her. But he's got big competition."

 _Big competition._ Vincent felt his stomach drop, the tinge of jealously he'd felt just a moment before exploding into his chest. Of course Catherine would have men chasing after her. She was gorgeous and smart and caring and - and just wonderful. He was so naive to come crashing into her life after being dead for seven years and think she would be alone and ready to restart a relationship where they'd left off. God, could he be any more stupid?

"It's hard to compete with a dead guy," Tess said. She turned and faced Vincent squarely. "Look, you're probably a really nice guy. And you've obviously hit a chord in Cat that hasn't been played in a long time. I love her to death and I can't thank you enough for making her feel happy." She took in a deep breath. "But Cat has some relationship issues and you need to know that going in so you don't get your hopes up and then end up hurting her because she can't go where you want to go."

 _A dead guy. Does she mean me?_ he thought. "Wow," was all Vincent could say.

"Even though I don't know you, I don't want you to get hurt either," Tess said, her face serious. "But I promise that if you hurt her I will make you wish you'd never met me." She cracked a slight smile. "Do I make myself clear, Corporal?"

Vincent returned her smile, appreciating that Tess was as devoted to Catherine as he. "Crystal clear, ma'am," he said.

Tess nodded in affirmation. "So," she said, "you were in the military. Army or the Corp?"

"Army, ma'am," Vincent said with mock formality. Then he relaxed and leaned against the counter. "Communications officer."

"Army Captain," Tess said. "Charge nurse. Baghdad."

"Tough post," Vincent said.

She sighed. "You got that right." Tess gave Vincent an appreciative look from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet and back up again. "I didn't get your name."

"Vincent."

Tess groaned. "Oh, you poor bastard."

Vincent flinched. "You're not doing much for my self-confidence."

"Sorry," Tess chuckled. "It's just that you've got the double whammy working against you."

"How's that," he said.

"First, you've got to compete with a dead guy. And second, the dead guy's name was Vincent. Cat's got to be thinking about him every time she says your name. You are the most unlucky schmuck I've met in a long time."

Vincent smiled. So …, the dead guy was him. And Catherine was still in love with him. And it sounded like she had trouble being in relationships because she still loved him. At that thought his smugness disappeared and a pain filled his chest at the thought of Catherine being so lonely for the past seven years. Suddenly he longed to hold her, to caress her, to let her know that she never had to be alone again. He turned and looked anxiously down the hallway.

"Crap. I can be such a putz," Tess said. "Look, I'm sorry. It's just that Cat's my best friend and I care about her more than almost anyone else on earth, ya know?"

Vincent nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"Okay. Let's talk about something else," Tess said. "I told you I served in Baghdad. Were you stationed overseas?"

"Afghanistan," Vincent said, turning back to Tess.

"I guess I can send the _tough post_ comment right back at 'cha. Where?"

"Kandahar."

"Now that is just freaking weird. Cat was stationed in Kandahar for two years as a volunteer doc for the Red Cross." Tess nodded and smiled. "No wonder you guys hit if off. That's so cool. You've probably got a lot to talk about. Cat finished up seven years ago. Where you there before or after her?"

"Same time," Vincent said. He was getting nervous now, wondering if Tess would make the connection and how that might impact the way she felt about him.

"No way! Man, that is too bizarre," Tess exclaimed, a grin spreading across her face. But in a flash her smile dropped into a frown and she looked at the floor, concentrating hard. "Wait a minute. You said you were a communications officer, right? An army corporal?" She looked up at Vincent.

"That's right."

Tess' eyes went wide. She sucked in a breath and stumbled back against the counter. "Oh my god. You're him. You're Vincent Keller."

Vincent stood frozen, afraid that if he moved Tess would run, or attack, or do something, he just wasn't sure what. He nodded.

"But … you're dead," Tess said, clearly shocked as she supported herself on the counter. "You're supposed to be dead."

Vincent drew in a breath. "Mistaken identity."

Tess shook her head back and forth vigorously. "No way," she said in nervous disbelief. "No way in hell. This is some sort of scam. You're some type of con man. You got hold of a picture of Vincent and made yourself look like him. There's no way you're Vincent Keller."

"Look," Vincent said, "I know it's a lot to take in. But I'm Catherine's Vincent."

"Prove it!" Tess demanded.

"How, for god's sake," Vincent said, frustrated.

Tess looked at the floor, thinking hard. She snapped her head back up and her eyes bored holes through Vincent. "Catherine said you shared everything about your lives with each other."

Vincent cringed. That was a private part of his life and he wasn't keen that another person, even if it was Catherine's best friend, knew about it. But he nodded. "Yeah, that's right."

"Then describe Catherine's fantasy house," Tess said with a smug grin, as if she'd caught him and proved he was a fraud.

Vincent smiled. This he knew, more intimately than anyone would ever believe. "It's more than just a house," he said, triumphantly. "Catherine's dream is to live out in the country on a small farm with animals, especially horses. She wants to raise and ride horses." His attention went inward as he continued, his voice quiet and wistful. "Her dream house is a huge log home with a giant stone fireplace and a great room for gathering family and friends together. At night she wants to sit out on the porch and gaze up at the night sky and wish on shooting stars."

Tess' eyes went wide. "Oh my God," she breathed, "you really are him."

Vincent watched with fascination while the expressions on Tess' face changed as everything started to sink in. Slowly her stunned look of surprise turned into a frown and a few moments later a look of stark horror filled her face. She pushed herself up from the counter and rushed over to Vincent, grabbing him by the arm and forcing him behind the nurses' station counter, pushing him into a small nook in the wall where they couldn't be overheard by passersby.

"What were you thinking, coming here?" she said, her voice low and harsh.

Vincent looked at Tess, confused. "Catherine brought me here."

"No. Not here at the hospital. I mean _here_ \- in Chicago." Tess shot a worried look toward the hallway. "You shouldn't be here. Don't you get it?"

"Apparently not," Vincent said, shrugging his shoulders. He felt a ping of annoyance, wondering what Tess was getting at.

Tess grabbed his left hand and pulled it up for inspection. "No wedding ring," she said, "and no mark that you'd taken one off. Good."

Vincent pulled his hand away from Tess as anger started to stir in his gut. "Captain," Vincent said, "I could use a sit-rep right about now."

Tess gave Vincent a hard glare at his military nomenclature, but it seemed to get his intended message across - that he didn't have a clue what she was talking about. She blew out a breath and took a step back.

"You've got to look at this from Cat's point of view," Tess said. "She was devastated when she thought you'd died. Even now when she thinks about Afghanistan, or anything else that reminds her of you, she goes into a funk that lasts for days." Tess looked away and rubbed her palms against her thighs. "There are a lot of great guys that would like to get close to Cat. Gabe Lowen is one. But every time Cat starts getting serious with a guy, she compares him to you and right then he's lost the battle. In her mind there is no one on earth that measures up to you. Eventually, she can't take the relationship to the next level. She gets cold feet and bails."

Vincent saw the earnestness in Tess' eyes and swallowed hard. The last thing he'd ever wanted was for Catherine to suffer because of him.

"And now you come waltzing merrily in with a - _Hi, how are ya. Long time, no see. Just passing through. Thought I'd stop by and catch-up on old times._ Geeze! This is really gonna mess her up."

That wasn't why Vincent had come. He wasn't here to visit and casually talk about the past. He'd come because when he'd discovered Catherine was alive he could do nothing else. He'd come to see if he could salvage the most important thing he'd ever experienced in his life. He'd come to embrace something that had been torn from him - from them - before it had the chance to flourish. He wanted that chance, more than anything.

Vincent opened his mouth to speak but Tess was on a roll now, her anger and frustration growing, and she cut him off before he uttered a word.

"And why now?" Tess' voice came in a low growl and she glared at Vincent from under scrunched eyebrows. "Things not working out in the relationship department?" she asked, sarcastically. "Missing out on some good luvin'? A little sex starved lately and you figured you could go back to a sure thing with Cat for a while?"

Vincent clenched his fists at his side. He knew why Tess was busting his chops. She loved Catherine and she was in full protection-mode, just like any army captain would be when protecting her troops.

But, maybe Tess was right. Doubt started to crowd out his anger. Maybe he'd been so completely self-centered that he hadn't taken into account what was best for Catherine. Showing up this way could really cause her serious mental and emotional harm, especially if she wasn't ready for him - or any man, for that matter - to be in her life. Maybe Tess was giving him the wake-up call he needed.

Tess continued to rail at Vincent. "And why did you wait for seven goddamned years to find her?" She blew out a frustrated breath. "You lousy son-of-a-bitch. Do you realize how much pain and suffering you've put her through letting her think you were dead. Why didn't you try to find her before now? Why?"

"What the hell's going on here?" came Catherine's voice from the counter.


	7. Chapter 7

Vincent and Tess jerked their heads toward the counter. Neither had heard Catherine walk up. She stood, staring at both of them, her eyes dark and her expression smoldering.

Catherine had heard Tess' angry accusation of Vincent as she'd approached, said almost in tandem with the same demanding question from Gabe. She knew why Vincent hadn't tried to find her.

"He thought I was dead," Catherine ground out in answer to both Gabe's and Tess' questioning accusations of Vincent.

Tess stood tall, unrepentant, head held high, her eyes flickering with righteous anger. Catherine felt Gabe's breath on her neck, standing only inches behind her, his own declaration of indignation ringing in her ears. Vincent's face was hard, his chest moved in and out, his breath ragged. She struggled to calm her own breath.

"He thought I died in the helicopter crash," Catherine said. This was a part of her war experience that she'd shared with Tess and Gabe and others. Tess' eyes widened in understanding and she felt Gabe take a step backwards.

"Catherine," Tess said, her low voice rumbling with tension, "that still doesn't mean this is right. Life isn't like a fairy tale."

"For once I agree with Vargus," Gabe said, stepping up into her peripheral vision. "You don't just rip the scab off an old wound without causing damage."

At her friends' comments Catherine felt doubt rise up, filling her chest, making each breath a chore. Tess was right. What had she been thinking? Life wasn't a fairy tale. She'd wished it was - just for a while. She'd wished more than anything that the miracle of Vincent being alive, of finding her after all these years, was the happily ever after she'd believed had died with him. A cold chill ran down her spine. Life wasn't that simple. She'd been naïve to believe it was. And still, she'd closed her eyes to her better judgement and allowed herself to be swept up into his arms and into the joy of finding him alive. But there had to be more to a relationship than a month of love and seven years of loss to make it work.

Gabe was right, too. She had issues, baggage from her past. Not just her grief about Vincent's supposed death, but the baggage of seven years of failed relationships and fighting her own personal demons. And what about Vincent? He couldn't have come through all of this without his own scars. She knew nothing about what had happened to him the past seven years. Maybe he'd been married. Maybe he was married. Was he as sane as he seemed or was he some type of nut-case stalking her? Just because she loved him and he loved her didn't mean that everything was right - that everything was safe.

Catherine watched Vincent step back from Tess, but his expectant eyes were on her. His beautiful green eyes. Full of love and, right now, questioning her - reflecting his own internal struggle. The doubt in her chest began to morph into the pin pricks of panic. Her already labored breathing turned shallow and fast. She needed to get away. She needed to think. She needed to get control of her feelings and stop her headlong rush into - exactly what, she didn't know. She felt her face grow tight and knew the panic had reached her eyes. The need to bolt surged through her.

"Excuse me," Catherine said with a ragged breath and turned, running down the hallway.

As she ran Catherine's vision tunneled down to a pinpoint. Her breath rushed so loudly in her ears she could hear nothing else. Panic surged through her, driving her blindly on. She needed to get away. She needed to think. She needed to be safe.

A few moments later she stopped in front of the hospital's chapel and synagogue, her body having brought her there without couscous thought. She pushed open the door and stepped into the large room. As the door closed behind her and she sat in one of the small pews her panic lessened and a warm calm began to slowly envelop her. Her panting subsided, her breaths growing deeper. Her shoulders began to relax and her sense of dread started to disolve. She closed her eyes.

Catherine had never been very religious. But prayer seemed like the only option available to still the turmoil in her mind and curb the irrational urge to turn and run back into Vincent's arms. She needed to calm down and think. She bowed her head.

_Hello, God. I know I don't visit often enough. Sorry._

She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

_I'm not sure what to do and I'm scared. I know I love Vincent. And he says he loves me. I want to believe him. But …, I'm not sure love is enough._

Catherine shook her head and felt the pitiful smile on her face.

_I am such a train wreck. I don't want to hurt Vincent like I've hurt others. Just because it's him doesn't mean I'll be different. I might even be worse. We've been apart for so long. We were never together, really. Maybe we'd both be better off if we just parted as friends. Tess was right. Life isn't a fairy tale._

Catherine heaved out an involuntary sigh.

_God, if could see your way clear to give me a little help right now, I'd appreciate it._

Catherine heard the door open and the soft sound of shoes on carpet. She felt the presence of someone as they sat down in the small pew across the aisle from her. She opened her eyes and recognized the man seated there. She had treated his wife in the ER the day before, the victim of a car crash. When the woman left the ER for the Critical Care Unit the prognosis hadn't been good. The man's eyes were bloodshot and his face was stained with dried tears.

Catherine's heart felt the man's agony and she instinctually turned to him. "Mr. Edwards," she said.

The man looked at her, confusion on his face for just a moment. Then a weak smile graced his lips. "Dr. Chandler," he said, giving his head a slight nod.

There was no easy way to broach the subject, so Catherine just asked, "How's your wife?"

The smile left his face and he looked down. "She died earlier this morning," he whispered.

Without thinking Catherine stepped across the narrow aisle and sat in the pew, sliding up next to him. She reached out and gently took one of his hands in hers. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Thirty years together," Edwards said, his eyes still turned down. "Every day a blessing."

Edwards lifted grateful eyes to hers. "Thank you, Dr. Chandler. If it hadn't been for you we wouldn't have had the chance to say our goodbyes to each other. I don't know how I'd have lived with that."

Catherine's breath caught in her throat. She knew what it was like not being able to say goodbye to the one you loved most in the world. It was a living hell and she never wanted to experience it again. But unlike the man whose hand she held, she had a second chance at a life with that person - with Vincent. What would it be like to face the pain at the end of thirty years of memories together? She swallowed hard. It would be better than thirty years of no memories together.

"Thank you, Mr. Edwards," Catherine said softly.

He looked at her, puzzled. "For what?" he said.

"For showing me what's important." She squeezed his hand as she let him go. "I've got to see someone."

He nodded and Catherine rose, walking toward the door. Exiting out into the corridor she saw Vincent sitting on the floor across the hall, his back against the wall. Leave it to Vincent to find her. After all, the hospital was nothing compared to the whole world. And even with the whole world to search, he had found her.

Vincent slowly rose to his feet and stood, unmoving. Catherine looked at him for a moment, taking in his physical beauty. Tall, muscled, thick hair, green eyes, long fingers, strong hands. She walked across the hall and stopped in front of him.

"I'm afraid I'll mess this up," she said, looking up into his eyes.

"Me too," Vincent said.

"We haven't seen each other for over seven years. How do we know this can work?" Catherine said.

Vincent reached out and tentatively placed his hands on Catherine's shoulders. They were warm and strong. Instantly Catherine felt the emptiness that had engulfed her earlier begin to subside once his hands were on her. Still, fear churned her stomach, making her queasy.

"I want to show you something," he said. "Will you trust me enough to come with me."

Catherine peered into his eyes and saw the same uncertainty that she knew was in hers. She nodded, knowing that thirty more years without him was at stake.

"Yes, I'll come with you," Catherine said. "Where are we going?"

Vincent wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. He bent and whispered into her ear. "Oregon."


	8. Chapter 8

"Wheels up in ten, Boss," the man said to Vincent. "Corporate office in New York called in the flight plan. We've got clearance." He was dressed in black slacks, a starched white shirt with black lapels on the shoulder. A pilot's uniform.

"Thanks, JT," Vincent said.

Catherine sat back in the Learjet's leather seat, staring wide-eyed around the cabin. She'd been shocked when Vincent told her he wanted to take her to Oregon. He offered no additional explanation other than to tell her she needed to see something - something important. She was curious when Vincent had hailed a cab outside the hospital. Her curiosity had grown when he'd told the cabbie to drive them south to Chicago's Midway Airport. Her eyes had bugged out when he'd led her out onto the tarmac and climbed the stairs into a twin-engine Learjet.

 _My God,_ she thought, _this is gonna cost him and arm and a leg. This is insane. I can't let him spend this type of money on … on, whatever._

But shock, curiosity and bug-eyed took a backseat to her jaw dropping when JT, the pilot, called Vincent 'Boss'.

JT turned toward her. "It's a pleasure to see you, Dr. Chandler. You may not remember me, but we've met before - in Kandahar."

Catherine thought she'd used up her quota of surprises for the day, but when the pilot spoke to her she realized she was wrong. She looked at him, amazed. He did look familiar. She struggled to find the man's last name hidden in her memory, but tantalizing close to the surface. "Franks? Ford?" Catherine tried to pull the memory out.

"Not bad," JT said. "It's Forbes, Ma'am". He stretched his had out to her and she took it slowly, as she stared at the man, dumbfounded.

"You were the base MEDEVAC helo pilot," she said, memories of years ago rushing over her like waves.

"Roger that, Ma'am."

Catherine shook her head, pulling her wits about her. "Still a pilot, I see," she said.

"Yep. Can't keep me out of the sky." JT nodded at Catherine and withdrew his hand. "Excuse me, but my co-pilot and I need to finish our pre-flight. Enjoy the flight, Ma'am."

"We're not in Kandahar any more," Catherine said. "So, it's just Catherine."

"Enjoy the flight, Catherine," JT said with a two finger salute. He turned and nodded to Vincent, then stepped into the cockpit, pulling the door shut behind him.

Catherine turned to Vincent who sat in the leather seat opposite her. "He was in Kandahar," she said, and she could hear the astonishment in her voice. Then her thoughts clicked and pieces fell into place. "He was in Kandahar," she said again, this time with intention. "And he called you 'Boss'."

Vincent chuckled. "Yeah. JT and I met there. We've been close since then. I hired him on about five years ago. He's been with me ever since."

Revelations continued to come to her as she looked around the plane again. "This …," she gestured at their surroundings, temporarily at a loss for words. She cleared her throat and tried again. "This is yours?"

Vincent gave her an apologetic grin. "Yeah. I guess it's kinda overkill. But after a while I needed to travel a lot and this was the best option."

"You needed to travel a lot … for what?" Catherine stared at him.

"My business," Vincent said, matter-of-factly.

"Which is …?" Catherine said, leveled a chastising look at Vincent, frustrated with his evasiveness.

"Do you remember what my job was in the Army?" he asked.

Catherine furrowed her brow and rolled her eyes at him.

Vincent gave her a sheepish grin. "Of course you do. Sorry."

"What's that have to do with a Learjet?" Catherine asked.

"I was able to use the computer training I received in the Army to start my own business. It kinda grew."

"If you need your own personal jet, that's an understatement," Catherine said. "What type of business?"

"Integrated, military grade, security systems for high end corporations," he explained.

The jet lurched forward and JT's voice came over the loud speaker. "Boss, Catherine, buckle-up please. We've begun our taxi and should be airborne in about five minutes."

Catherine buckled her seatbelt and pulled it tight around her. As Vincent did the same their knees touched in the small space. Neither pulled away, keeping the contact, and Catherine relished the warm tingling that traveled up her leg and rested in her belly.

They sat, quiet, looking out the jet's windows as they passed the terminal buildings brightly lit in the gray winter evening. True to JT's word the jet rounded to the end of the runway, picked-up speed and was airborne in just under five minutes. Catherine watched in awe as the lights of Chicago spread out below her as the plane gained altitude. Eventually the jet leveled out and the city lights were left behind.

Catherine wasn't sure how much time had passed when JT stepped through the cockpit door and closed it behind him. She gave him a grin. "So, who's flying the plane?"

"That'd be Joe," JT said. He turned to Vincent. "We'll be in Redmond in about three hours, Boss," he said.

"Thanks, JT," Vincent said. "Go grab some water."

JT nodded and walked the short distance to the back of the plane and opened a small refrigerator recessed into the rear bulkhead, pulling out two bottles of water.

Catherine returned her attention to Vincent. "So, you've been busy the past seven years," it was a statement, not a question.

"Work keeps me busy," Vincent said, shrugging his shoulders.

JT turned toward them and snorted. "Busy is not exactly the term I'd use."

Vincent frowned and Catherine picked-up on his annoyance.

"Oh yeah?" Catherine said, giving JT a conspiratorial grin.

"Yeah. Vincent doesn't work, he obsesses, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week."

Vincent gave JT a quick scowl, but it didn't last long, testimony - she thought - to their close friendship.

JT handed Vincent one of the bottles of water. "Take this to Joe. Your turn at the stick."

Vincent's eyes lit up and his smile conveyed his delight at the prospect of flying.

"You can fly this thing?" Catherine said.

"JT's teaching me."

"He's not certified to take off and land yet, but he can take command when we're airborne," JT said.

"Sounds a little scary," Catherine said.

"Not to worry," JT responded. "Joe will make sure he doesn't screw up."

Vincent turned toward Catherine, a worried look on his face. "Will you be okay? It'll probably be only an hour or so."

Catherine let out a laugh at his concern, reaching out to take his hand. "You go ahead and enjoy yourself. I'll be fine. It's not like I can run away again." She gestured toward JT. "And JT will keep me company."

Vincent's smile returned and he squeezed her hand. He stood, leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, then turned and entered the cockpit.

Catherine was surprised by Vincent's unexpected kiss. She watched him disappear through the cockpit door. Her lips were hot, tingles of electricity traveling down her body, adding to the warmth pooling in her belly. She hadn't felt his lips on hers in over seven years. She wasn't sure whether to be angry for him kissing her so obliviously and then running off to enjoy himself, or to be joyful that in his moment of sheer bliss his automatic, unconscious need was to kiss her, as naturally as if they'd never been apart. She decided on the later, her joy definitely influenced by the desire his kiss had sparked in her.

JT sat in Vincent's place, taking a long pull from his water bottle. Long moments of silence passed and several times Catherine caught JT looking at her from under his eyebrows. After a while JT said, "He thought you were dead, you know."

Catherine sighed and nodded, looking out the window at the star-lit sky. "I know."

"I should have died with you," JT said.

Catherine looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

"I was scheduled to pilot the EVAC helo that went down - the one you were supposed to have been killed on." He turned his head, his thoughts far away. "The day before, they reassigned me to Kabul. Another pilot took that flight."

Catherine nodded, remaining quiet.

JT turned back to her. "I thought you died on that flight, too, along with everyone else." He paused and took another sip of water. "When Vincent found me and hired me five years ago, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was like he'd come back from the dead."

Catherine sucked in a startled breath, realizing that JT had also thought Vincent was dead.

JT continued. "His business was skyrocketing when he found me and he wanted me to be a part of it. I don't just pilot. I drive for him and serve as a bodyguard, although he's definitely able to take care of himself. We've grown closer over the years. He's my best friend."

"I'm glad you two found each other again," Catherine said, wishing she'd spent the past five years with Vincent as well.

JT sat silent for another minute or so. Then he said, "Vincent's been so successful in his business because all he does is work. He doesn't do anything else, just work."

"Nothing but work?" Catherine echoed JT.

"Just work," JT confirmed. "No family. No friends, except for me. No fun, except for flying, which took a long time for me to get him interested." JT shook his head. "When he came back from the hospital in Germany he was a broken man. When he found me two years after that he was an uber-successful, up and coming entrepreneur. But he was still broken and empty. He still is."

"Why?" Catherine asked, although she trembled inside at what she knew must be the answer. JT confirmed her fears.

"Your death changed him," JT responded. "It took something from him - his will to live. I don't mean living like breathing and eating. I mean living like feeling happiness, loving others, letting others love him. He's tried a few times over the years to re-engage with life, but he didn't know how. He didn't believe he could be in the world without you. So, he'd retreat back into his work. And, as you can see, he is good at his work."

Catherine tensed. Vincent had _tried to re-engage with life_. Did that include relationships? Had Vincent taken a lover in the past? Had another woman reveled in the hardness of his body and the gentleness of his spirit? Had another woman been seared by his passion? Jealously flared hot in Catherine's chest imagining a woman other than her being pleasured by Vincent and pleasuring him in return. She knew her feelings were irrational, but they burned hot, just the same.

JT continued. "When he learned a month ago that you were alive, he changed. A spark ignited inside him. He couldn't do anything else but look for you. He focused entirely on tracking you down. And when he found you in Chicago - well, other than being scared as hell, he came alive like I hadn't seen in him since the two of you were together in Afghanistan."

JT's words swirled in Catherine's mind. Vincent had been irrevocably damaged when he thought she had died. Empty and without purpose. Immersing himself in his work to avoid the pain of his loss. And she was just like him. Unable to function in the world. Burying herself in her work in the ER where she found relief from her pain by helping save the lives of others. If Vincent was broken, then certainly she was, too.

JT broke the silence once more. "I'm afraid what finding you alive will do to him."

Catherine shook her head, bringing her thoughts back to JT. "What?" she said, confused.

"I'm afraid this will be the straw that breaks the camel's back," he said. "If he looses you again …," he paused, "… I don't think he'll survive it."

A flash of anger shot through her at JT's comment and she glared at him. "I'm not going to hurt him, no matter what happens."

He met her gaze, not with anger, but with a soft smile of compassion. "I know," he said. "It's not about what you would or wouldn't do to him. It's about him. I don't think he has the strength to lose you a second time."

Fear pushed away the anger in Catherine's chest. She wanted to be with Vincent. Wanted to embrace their relationship and pull it back from the pit that life had tossed it into when they both thought each other was dead. But, was that too much of a fairy tale? Was that a happily ever after that couldn't happen?

JT's voice intruded on her thoughts. "He's scared. You probably are too."

Catherine swallowed hard and stared at JT.

"I can tell you one thing," he said. "Vincent is devoted to you, beyond reason. And he's taking you somewhere special - sacred to him - to prove that to you."

"Where are we going?" Catherine said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

JT smiled. "That's not for me to say," he said. "Vincent wants to surprise you."

Catherine felt her brow scrunch in worry.

JT must have understood her expression because he said, "We're going to an amazing place. When you get there, you'll feel right at home."

Catherine felt she could trust JT. He had the honor and convictions of the soldier he had been and he was completely devoted to Vincent now. How could she not trust someone so dedicated to the love of her life?

"Al right," she said. She gave JT a smile. "What's life without a little adventure?"

JT snorted and smiled.

Just then Vincent emerged from the cockpit, a smile plastered on his face. She looked at her watch. Sure enough, an hour had passed. "Thank you, JT," she said.

"Thank him for what?" Vincent said as he sat in the seat beside Catherine.

"For taking care of your butt," Catherine said with a chuckle.

"He does a pretty good job of that," Vincent said.

JT stood. "How'd it go, Boss?"

"Outstanding," Vincent said. "Thanks."

"Sure. We've got about another ninety minutes before we touch down. You two might want to grab some sleep. I imagine you're both pretty tired."

At the mere mention of sleep Catherine couldn't keep herself from yawning. "Good idea," she said and leaned her body into Vincent's, resting her head against his upper arm.

Vincent wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into his side and she felt safe. The warmth of contentment flowed through her and ten minutes later she was asleep.

Some time later Catherine felt Vincent pick her up and carry her out of the jet. She was so tired she barely managed to pry her eyes open to narrow slits as he lifted her into the back seat of a large SUV, cradling her in his lap. She wondered for a moment where he was taking her, but then realized that it didn't matter. As long as she was with him, she didn't care. Taking a deep breath Catherine nuzzled into Vincent's chest, breathing in his scent and feeling his arms tighten around her, lulling her back to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Catherine groaned as she woke, daylight making itself known filtering in through closed eyelids. She didn't want to wake up, didn't want to open her eyes. Instead, she wanted to go back to sleep and dive back into the most luscious dream she'd had in a long time. Keeping her eyes shut tight Catherine pushed her arms above her head and her feet toward the foot of the bed in a long, feline stretch. She felt her lips turn up into a smile and a soft purr escaped her throat as she remembered her dream and the gorgeous hunk of a man who'd filled it.

Unlike most of her dreams about Vincent, this one was happy, exciting. In this dream he hadn't gone away. In this dream he'd searched for her and found her. He'd gathered her in his arms and swept her off her feet, whisking her away in a Learjet to a mysterious, faraway place like a knight on a white steed. She felt her lips drop from a smile into pout, disappointed that the dream had ended before they'd arrived at Vincent's secret destination and before anything _else_ had happened.

_And now I'm so wired I'll never be able to go back to sleep and finish this totally awesome dream. Crap. At least today's my day off._

Catherine pushed her arms and legs into another long stretch and slowly opened her eyes, ready to take on the day. As her vision focused her heart started pounding in her chest and she shot upright in the bed. A huge, king-size bed. A huge, king-size bed that wasn't hers. And the very large room the bed was in wasn't hers, either.

Her eyes darted around taking in her surroundings. In the center of the wall across from the bed was a set of brown rattan chairs surrounding a small table. To the right of the chairs was a flatscreen television and small entertainment center. To the left was an oak amour and chest of drawers. A doorway in the wall on the left lead into a bathroom and on the wall to the right was a set double french doors which opened out onto a large deck. The walls were made of rough-hewn logs, shellacked with a shiny, rich walnut-colored stain. She was obviously in some type of log building, probably a fancy bed and breakfast or a rustic hotel of some sort. She glanced at the foot of her bed and saw several bath towels, hand towels and wash cloths neatly laid out with a piece of paper sitting on them.

And then it hit her. Catherine sucked in a startled breath. It wasn't a dream. She wasn't in her condo in Chicago. She was somewhere in Oregon. Vincent had brought her here. In a jet. It was all real. Vague snippets of consciousness from the evening before surfaced. She remembered waking up in Vincent's arms as he carried her somewhere. He'd whispered in her ear that they were here - where ever _here_ was - and that she could go back to sleep and he'd see her in the morning. She was so emotionally and physically exhausted she'd gladly let herself slip back into sleep knowing she was safe in his arms as he put her to bed.

_He put me to bed!_

Anxiety surged through Catherine and she whipped back the comforter and sheets and looked down at herself. A wave of relief came next, followed by a tinge of guilt as she saw she was clad in her blue bikini panties and her shirt. She glanced over at the chest of drawers and noticed her jeans folded neatly on top with her shoes next to it on the floor. Her matching bra was sitting on her jeans and she remembered Vincent helping her take the bra off without taking off her shirt - a trick she'd shown him in Afghanistan. Vincent was the epitome of a gentleman and he would never have taken advantage of her. He was a good man. Even in their short time together she had learned enough about him to be convinced of that.

As Catherine sat thinking about Vincent peeling off her jeans and helping her maneuver her bra out from underneath her shirt she started to have regrets that he hadn't taken advantage of her. She'd have woken up at his ministrations and would have gladly let him pleasure her. He knew only too well how every part of her body reacted to his touch and she had missed that touch so very much for so many years.

Catherine felt the pout return to her lips. He'd not only been the consummate gentleman as he'd undressed her, he'd obviously even rented a separate room from himself. Well, she would have to remedy that - and soon. With Gabe and Tess and JT and God and everyone out of the picture for a while, it was time to see if Vincent wanted what she wanted, or if the years had dampened his desire, a desire that had rekindled itself in her bones.

Stretching one last time Catherine stood and walked to the foot of the bed, picking up the note waiting for her on top of the bath towels.

_Hey sleepy-head. When you wake up and are ready for some coffee - and your surprise - just dial 6 on the phone by the bed. V._

Probably his room extension, so they were most likely in a very expensive hotel or B and B. Faint tingles of excitement begin to stir in Catherine's stomach in anticipation of being with Vincent. But before anything else a shower was the first order of business. She grabbed a towel, went to the shower in the large bathroom, set the water to almost scalding and peeled off her panties and shirt. Stepping into the shower she let the hot water cascade over her head and down her body. It was heaven.

Catherine took a long, hot, rejuvenating shower, a luxury she seldom afforded herself given her hectic life as an emergency room physician. She wanted to stay under the hot spray for rest of the day, but groaning her displeasure to no one but herself she stepped out of the shower and toweled off. Wrapping the other bath towel around her wet hair she surveyed her body in the mirror. The swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the small patch of dark curls at the apex of her thighs, her slender legs - she was much the same Catherine that Vincent had known in Afghanistan, albeit a few years older.

 _Not bad, Chandler, even if I do say so myself,_ she thought with pride. Then, a sliver of doubt peaked through as she thought, _I just hope he still finds me attractive._

Pulling on the soft, terrycloth robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and sliding her feet into the slippers under the vanity Catherine became aware of the rich aroma of coffee. Following her nose out into the room she saw two steaming mugs of coffee sitting on the table and Vincent sitting in one of the rattan chairs with his back toward the bathroom. He'd brought her coffee and he was protecting her modesty at the same time. God, this man was too good to be true.

"So, are you room service?" Catherine said, a smile curving her lips.

"Kinda," Vincent said. "Are you decent?"

Catherine winced, wishing she wasn't and that he'd turn around and ravish her with his eyes like he used to every time they stole away to their secret rendezvous in the base medical storage supply shed. But that wasn't the case now, so she said, "Yes," trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

Vincent stood and turned slowly toward her, angling his chair so it faced its mate and gestured for Catherine to sit. His eyes were bright, a smile on his face.

Catherine sat and glanced at the mug of coffee. As Vincent's smile turned into a smirk Catherine furrowed her eyebrows and said, "What?"

"You told me in Kandahar that what you missed the most were long, hot showers and good coffee. Looks like you haven't changed. Try this," he said, pointing to the mug on the table. "It's dark roast, two sugars and a little cream. That's right, isn't it?"

Catherine smiled and nodded. His smirk grew and Catherine could sense how much more relaxed and confident Vincent was this morning as compared to the day before. "Thank you," she said. She took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes, savoring the deep, rich flavor. "Oh my god, this is wonderful."

"Knew you'd like it. It's from a small, local roaster. There are a lot of small artisans here - all kinds of art, crafts, food, wine - you need something, someone local makes it," Vincent said.

Catherine took another sip of coffee. "So, where in Oregon are we?"

Vincent smiled. "Outside a little town called _Sisters,_ in Central Oregon, just east of the Cascade Mountains," he said. "Come here, I want to show you something." He stood and offered his hand to her. Standing, she set her mug back on the table and took his hand, following him as he walked across the room toward the double french doors. "Bundle-up. We're going to step onto the deck for a minute and its pretty cold outside. But I promise, it will be worth it."

Puzzled, Catherine did as instructed and pulled the robe tighter around herself. Vincent tugged open one door and a gust of brisk winter air made Catherine inhale sharply. He led her out onto a wooden deck covered with a light sprinkling of snow. As Catherine looked up, the view that greeted her stole the breath she had caught only a moment before. Towering in front of her, almost close enough to touch, were four huge mountain peaks covered with snow that glistened in the morning sun. Her gaze followed the mountain sides down to the green forests below dusted with a light blush of snow. Acres upon acres of cross-fenced fields stretched out in front of her all the way to the edge of the forest, perhaps a mile away. Several horses and a dozen cows meandered peacefully, pushing aside the thin coating of snow that sparkled with the sun's light to get at the tufts of grass underneath. The enormity of the mountains played counterpoint to the peaceful, pastoral meanderings of the horses and cattle and all Catherine could do was gasp as she took everything in.

Without taking her eyes off the scene in front of her Catherine whispered, "This is incredible. Thank you for bringing me here to see this."

Vincent stepped up behind Catherine and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him. "It _is_ pretty amazing," he murmured in her ear. The heat of his body permeated the robe, flowing over her, warming her both outside and in. She breathed in his scent - an intoxicating mixture of soap and a faint hint of cologne along with a musky male undertone. It reminded her of how close their bodies had been the night before as Vincent cradled her in his arms. She pressed her back against his chest and took in a deep breath, savoring his closeness.

Catherine looked off to her right and then to her left taking in the building. They were, indeed, in a modern log building and it was huge. Their deck was perched high up on the third floor and the building extended at least a hundred feet in each direction. Large windows made up much of this side of the building from what Catherine could see, obviously to capitalize on the incredible view for guests and patrons. Looking down at the parking area she was puzzled there weren't more vehicles, only the black SUV they'd arrived in. With the incredible view, the beautiful building and the luxurious rooms the hotel should be packed, even at this time of early winter.

Catherine tilted her head back, turning it slightly so she could catch Vincent's eyes. "Where are the rest of the guests?" she asked. Then a possibility dawned on her. "You didn't rent this entire building just for us, did you? How could you have done that? You'd have to have made reservations months ago - maybe even years ago."

Vincent's smile widened and his eyes twinkled. "There aren't any other guests," he said. "Only we two. Yes, I reserved this place just for us. And, yes, I did it years ago. In fact, I built it five years ago."

It took a few seconds for Catherine's mind to wrap itself around the meaning of his words. As the realization came to her she leaned back further to get a better look at Vincent's face. "You built this? This is your home?" she said.

Vincent nodded.

"But I thought you lived in New York."

"My corporate headquarters is in New York. But I can live anywhere I want. I chose here. And I built …" he paused and gestured with one hand at the house and then out toward the snow covered fields in front of them "… all of this."

Catherine turned and took in everything again and then quietly said, "But, this is my dream."

"You're right. This _is_ your dream," Vincent said. "Your dream became my dream. When you shared your dreams with me in Kandahar I didn't have any of my own. I was just hoping to survive and get back home." Vincent pulled her tighter into him as he continued. "So I borrowed your dream. And your dream was beautiful. It kept me going - it was a gift. When I was finally able to make it come true - I did."

Vincent turned Catherine completely around to face him never letting his grip loosen in the slightest. She looked up at him and his eyes captured hers. "I never thought I'd be able to share this dream with you," he said. "I thought that part of my dream had died in Kandahar."

"This is what you wanted to show me," Catherine said, softly, as the amazing reality of everything began to set in. "You wanted me to see your home - my dream." _My dream, come true,_ she thought.

"Yes," he said, his voice rough and low. He pulled her tighter into him.

As her breasts pushed against his chest she could feel the chiseled muscles under his shirt. The smoldering fire which had been biding its time deep inside her flared to life. As Catherine looked up at Vincent the heat and desire behind his eyes were undeniable. Her body jerked slightly as shivers ran down her spine. But the culprit of her momentary shaking wasn't the cold air. She was anything but cold, wrapped in Vincent's arms. The warmth of his body washed over her, adding to the heat climbing up from her core into her belly and pushing into her chest. She wanted him.

The doubts of yesterday afternoon were gone. Here was the man she'd thought dead and knew could never be replaced in her life. He was in front of her, solid and real. She could feel his heart beating against her chest. The vice-like grip of his hands on her waist and the warmth of his body against hers wasn't imaginary. Catherine's heart sped up and she could hear her shallow breaths echoing off Vincent's chest.

Vincent's gaze enveloped her, overwhelming her with raw emotion she hadn't felt in years. He brought his head down toward hers, angling his lips so they would mesh perfectly with hers. Catherine's breath hitched as he came closer. Vincent paused, his eyes asking for permission. Catherine took in a short breath and felt a smile spread across her lips as she whispered, "Yes."

Vincent's lips crashed into hers as he pulled her toward him even closer, one hand at the small of her back, the other at the nape of her neck. He kiss was hot and needy. His lips pressed hard against hers, his tongue demanding entrance to her mouth. Catherine met him with the same ferocious need, darting her hands up and grabbing his hair, pulling him hard into her. Her mouth was hot and opened willingly, allowing Vincent in, her tongue battling with his with an uncontrolled passion. He pulled harder at her, cupping her butt and lifting her up and into him. Without breaking their kiss Catherine hopped up, the loose robe falling down to her sides allowing her to wrap her legs around Vincent's waist, squeezing him hard with her thighs. She pressed her pelvis into his and his arousal was evident. She could feel the moisture of her own arousal as she ground into him.

Vincent pulled his lips back from Catherine's and started to rain kisses down across her jaw and neck. Catherine closed her eyes and tilted her head back, opening herself to him, losing herself in the passion that coursed through her. As his lips continued to touch every bit of exposed skin they could find Vincent turned with Catherine still wrapped around him and walked back into the warm room, kicking the door shut behind him.

As he stepped toward the bed his kisses stopped, replaced by his voice growling low in Catherine's ear, "God, I've missed you. I want you. And I know you want me. Tell me you want me."

In response Catherine unclenched her legs bringing her feet the floor, then stepped back and shrugged the robe off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet.


	10. Chapter 10

Catherine stood naked, her body and soul an offering to Vincent. He stared at her, wide-eyed. For a heartbeat the same kernel of doubt that had nagged her in the bathroom as she'd looked at herself in the mirror tugged at the back of her mind. Did he still find her attractive after all these years? Did he ache for her as much as she did for him?  
  
No sooner had her doubt surfaced than it was extinguished by Vincent's feral growl and narrowed eyes as he stalked toward her like a predator. He grabbed her head with both hands bringing his lips down hard on hers. Catherine grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to her, her lips as hungry as his. Vincent's tongue devoured her mouth and his hands moved to grasp her upper arms, crushing her breasts against his chest. Heat coursed through her body and Catherine moaned as Vincent rubbed himself against her.  
  
Needing air, Vincent broke the kiss, bringing his searing eyes back to hers. Suddenly he reached down and snatched Catherine up so quickly it took her breath away. Stepping around to the side of the bed he laid her in the middle. He climbed onto the bed, straddling her with his hands at her shoulders and his knees on either side of her thighs. Catherine reached up and grabbed the nape of Vincent's neck, pulling his lips back down to hers, unwilling for them to be parted for any longer than a moment.  
  
The sexual heat burning inside Catherine was unbearable. She couldn't hold back any longer so she let go of conscious thought, releasing the doubts and fears that had dragged her down over the last weeks, days and hours. She needed him - had to have him. To hell with everything else. Whether this was forever or just for now, nothing else mattered in the universe except to lose herself in Vincent completely. And she would take him with her. She would pull him into glorious oblivion beside her and she would have no regrets.  
  
As Vincent hovered over her Catherine frantically pulled his tee-shirt free from his jeans and tugged it up as high as she could on his chest, desperate to feel his bare skin against hers. He pulled his mouth away from hers and sat back for a moment, finishing what she'd started by pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. Catherine drank in the sight of his broad shoulders and chest. His pectoral muscles were still as defined, his abdominals still as ripped, as they had been seven years before when he was soldier and needed to be in top physical condition in order to survive. Reaching up Catherine slowly ran her hands from the top of his pecs down his abs to rest on his tight stomach, feeling every luscious ridge, reveling in the warmth of his skin against her hands. As her fingers caressed his body Vincent closed his eyes and tipped his head back, rewarding Catherine with a soft moan and shudder which caused a surge in the desire pooling at her core.  
  
Breaking out of her daze Catherine's hands made a frenzied attack on Vincent's belt buckle and in an instant she had it unfastened and began working on the button and fly of his jeans. Vincent grabbed her hands and pulled them away, then leaned forward straddling her again, pinning her hands together in one of his above her head. She struggled futilely against the strength of his grip, letting out a whine as frustration pulsed through her, maddening the aching desire between her thighs. Catherine's breath came shallow and fast, excitement tingled through every nerve. She was completely powerless and exposed to Vincent – literally his to do with as he pleased. And she wanted him to please himself. She wanted to be his pleasure.  
  
"No, you don't," Vincent said in his low, gravely voice, thick with his own desire.  
  
"You asked me if I wanted you," Catherine rasped as she fought for air. "I do. I want you. Now." She wriggled underneath him arching her neck and head upward, trying to reach his lips with hers.  
  
Leaning down Vincent bypassed her lips, bringing his mouth to her ear. His chest brushed against her breast and her nipple immediately stiffened with desire. A surge of electricity shot from her breast directly to her crotch and her hips squirmed as she fought her need. She'd always had sensitive breasts and her nipples were hard-wired to her sex. Vincent obviously remembered this and the glorious bastard was playing her like a violin. She squirmed at the tension building in her body while in her mind she cursed as well as praised the maestro, wanting him to continue conducting his symphony.  
  
"I have something to prove first," Vincent whispered and then nipped her earlobe and flicked it with his tongue.  
  
Catherine shuddered as his mouth teased her. Struggling to find her voice she managed to force out, "Prove … what?"  
  
"That it's always been you," he said. "And it will always be you. That I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."  
  
For a moment Catherine felt her heart jump at the possibility that her hope Vincent might want to be with her again could really come true. And then, just as quickly, all thought disappeared as Vincent began to trail kisses from her ear down her jaw line, then dipping down to the soft spot on her neck that always drove her crazy. Damn, the man had a good memory. His soft lips left traces of heat where they touched as they continued their journey south, across her collarbone and down to the swell of her petite breasts. Catherine caught her breath, hoping Vincent was heading in the direction she needed him to go.  
  
Vincent kissed the top of one breast, then ran his tongue down the remaining few inches until he reached her areola where he laved it softly and took her nipple into his mouth. Catherine hissed in a long breath through her teeth and arched her back into him as another jolt of desire went from her nipple straight to her sex. She fought to free her hands so she could grab his head and pull him harder against her, but his grip remained solid. She let out another whimper of frustration which seemed to spur the adoration of Vincent's mouth on her flesh. As he sucked her engorged nipple further into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and grazing it with his teeth, the rough fingers of his free hand trailed down her neck, over her shoulder and down her chest, finally cupping her other breast. Softly he pinched and rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Catherine let out a soft cry, closing her eyes and pushing her head back into the mattress, completely abandoning herself to his ministrations.  
  
She bucked against the rhythm of his mouth and hand on her breasts. His touch was beyond gentle now, but not painful. It was rough and intense, driving her on, fueling her desire. Tension burned like fire in her core as he sucked and stroked her and Catherine could feel her fluids slick between her legs. He was relentless and each time she arched her back up toward him she saw white spots at the edges of her vision as he drove her closer and closer toward the tipping point.  
  
Catherine fought to control her ragged breathing. She didn't want to let go yet. She wanted to bask in the electric fire that coursed from her breasts down through her body. She wanted to feel Vincent on top of her, dominating her, protecting her, driven her crazy with his hands and mouth. He was here with her and she surrendered herself to him, never wanting this feeling to end.  
  
But Vincent changed the rules as he moved his hand from her breast down between her legs, cupping her trimmed mound and lightly rubbing her sex with his thumb as he slid two fingers through her wetness inside of her. Catherine arched her hips up, sucking in a breath and holding it, desperately fighting off her orgasm. She dropped her hips back down but immediately arched again, pushing herself hard into his hand while her eyes closed and her body erupted as Vincent's mouth and fingers took her over the edge.  
  
As her body jerked and shook under Vincent's onslaught, his pinning of her hands above her head intensified her rapture beyond pleasure, bordering on a pain so luscious she didn't want it to stop. Her hips arched up into him and then collapsed back to the bed, arching up again, over and over. Her vision flared white-hot and the air burned as she forced it down her lungs against her body's efforts to steal it away from her. She cried out, her words unintelligible, but the ecstasy in her voice rang in her ears. Vincent truly was a maestro and she, gladly, his instrument.  
  
As Catherine's orgasm began to subside she was surprised when Vincent released her hands, still bracing himself above her. Her momentary surprise turned into molten fire at the regained the use of her hands. She grabbed his head with one hand and pulled him tighter against her breast while her other locked onto the wrist of his hand pleasuring her, forcing him to work her harder. Her body raged and bucked against him as she started the climb back up toward the edge of the abyss, desperately needing to fall over its ledge once again.  
  
"Oh …, oh …," Catherine stuttered, bending her head forward and forcing her mouth to Vincent's ear as she clawed upward toward another orgasm. "Please," she begged, "don't … stop. Don't … ever … stop."  
  
Vincent released his lips from her breast. "Never," he growled and then covered her breast with his mouth again.  
  
What little control Catherine had regained shattered at his reply. Her body convulsed in a second climax, obliterating the first. Writhing and thrashing with exquisite pleasure Catherine lost the ability to think. Time and space disappeared. All that existed was her ecstasy as Vincent covered her, bringing her that gift.  
  
Catherine finally crested the torrential wave, her arms and legs shuddering as she gasped for breath. Her body slowly began its descent while her sanity gradually returned. As she relaxed Vincent lifted his head and brought both hands to rest beside her shoulders, bracing himself above her. Breathing hard, Catherine looked up at him and was greeted by Vincent's smoldering eyes.  
  
"I love you," he whispered. "I always have. And I will love you even after the world ends."  
  
Joy welled up inside her. A joy so primal, so visceral she had no words to describe it. He still loved her. He'd never stopped loving her, even after all these years thinking she was dead. There might still be a chance for them after all.  
  
Unable to speak, Catherine reached up and cradled Vincent's face between her palms. Slowly she pulled him to her, gently meeting his lips with a soft, lingering kiss, trying to pour seven years of emotion into that one sensuous touch. He met her, his lips warm on hers.  
  
After a moment Vincent slowly broke the kiss, lifted his head and found her eyes again, his face solemn. "I want you," he said. "Not just this. I want all of you. I want us, again. I'll do anything. Just tell me what to do."  
  
Catherine looked up at him, her heart overflowing at his words. He had nothing to prove to her. There were no tasks necessary to win her back. He'd never lost her love. Vincent only needed to do one thing.  
  
In response to his plea Catherine tightened her grip on his face and said, "Just … let me love you."  
  
Vincent's breath hitched and she saw his eyes widen and nostrils flare. Now it was her turn. Her turn to prove to him that he was all she longed for. Prove to him she had not forgotten the promises uttered in ecstasy years ago. Prove to him that she was his. She pulled him to her again, but this time her kiss wasn't gentle. Her tongue ran across his lips, pushing against them, demanding entrance to his mouth and he complied willingly. Catherine led the dance now, fervent and needy. As Vincent's passion rose and he demanded more of their kiss, Catherine dropped her hands from his face and made quick work of the button and fly of his jeans sliding them and his boxers back over his hips and down his legs to his knees. She felt his erection spring free and she captured it in her hand.  
  
Vincent interrupted the kiss as his breath caught, his lips still close to hers. He leaned back, quickly levering himself up and off the end of the bed to peel off his jeans and boxers. Catherine felt the loss of his lips and of his body over hers. She reached out and grabbed his hands, pulling him back onto the bed where he bent forward again, straddling her on all fours, his knees near the foot of the bed.  
  
Vincent's eyes burned into Catherine's as he hovered over her. She again grasped his length and her body began to throb with the remnants of her earlier orgasm. He leaned down to kiss her but she stopped him with a hand to his chest. "My turn," she drawled out and she shimmied on her back down the bed, allowing her forehead to rub against Vincent's chin, chest and then his stomach as she moved closer to the prize she held captive. His turgid member reminded Catherine of his impressive size and a shiver of anticipation shot through her as she inched closer.  
  
She reached her goal, laying on her back, her head directly underneath Vincent, her legs hanging off the end of the bed, her feet just touching the floor. She raised her head and pulled him down toward her at the same time. As she blew a hot breath down his length Vincent shuddered. Reaching out with her tongue she teased him, licking up and over, capturing the seepage that was evidence of his desire for her. He groaned as she pulled her tongue back into her mouth, parsing the sweet and salt taste of him.  
  
Fisting Vincent's length and pumping him several times Catherine was rewarded by the hiss of his breath and more moans of pleasure. Reaching out with her tongue she caressed him again, this time slowly moving down, her lips covering him as she took him in, one slow inch at a time. As she enveloped him her forehead pushed up against the muscles of his stomach which were clenched rock hard and quivering. Triumph flooded through her that she could make this beast of a man, so large and so strong, quiver at her touch. She needed that. She needed to know she could make him come undone, just as he had done to her. She wanted to be the one to do that for him. Only she, no other.  
  
Catherine picked up the pace, moving her mouth and hands faster, benefiting from the slickness of her saliva. Vincent's low moans continued, forced out between breaths which became more ragged by the moment. She felt him harden and widen still, while his hips begin to move slightly in counterpoint to her rhythm, thrusting into her as she engulfed him. She could feel him surging upward – climbing, clawing toward the inevitable.  
  
Vincent's breath came hard and fast now, his moans louder and more insistent. Heat radiated from him, his body hot to the touch as his tensed muscles worked harder and faster toward his release. Small drops of perspiration formed over the length of his abdomen and they rubbed off onto Catherine's forehead as she bumped up against him. The feel and smell of his sweat, the heat from his taut muscles, the barely restrained raw power of his body electrified her every nerve, tightening her sex and sending pulsating waves of desire through her. She took him harder and faster, caught-up in her power over him and enthralled by his need for it. Again and again she covered him with her hands and mouth, caught-up in her own desperate need for his release.  
  
Vincent's breathing hitched for a split second and then he sucked in a hard breath. Catherine knew he was close and earnestly increased her ministrations. But suddenly Vincent pulled back from her causing both her hands and her mouth to lose their purchase on him. Panic spiked through her. What had she done wrong? Had she hurt him? Did he have second thoughts? As Vincent pulled back and stood she anxiously searched his features for any clue to his sudden abandonment. His face was red from exertion, his brow furrowed in concentration as sweat dripped from his forehead. But his eyes - his eyes were clear and intense. His eyes told her he wasn't done. Relief flooded through her.  
  
"Not yet," Vincent said, his voice hoarse and his breathing labored. "Not like that. Not today. I need to see your eyes." Before she could move Vincent reached down in a flash of motion, grabbing Catherine under her arms and lifting her high into the air, bringing her into his chest. Her body responded automatically as she clasped her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. As she tightened her grip she felt his hardness brushing against her sex and her desire exploded. Their lips collided - wet, hot and needy - the kiss fueling their need for each other.  
  
Vincent turned his back toward the bed and sat down on the edge, Catherine ensconced in his lap, her legs firmly entwined around him. Her face was buried against his neck and she could feel the pounding of his heart against her chest, her own heart beating just as hard. In this position even more of his arousal pressed hard against her own, making her wet with desire. As her breath came faster and harder it echoed off his neck, filling her ears.  
  
Catherine began to rub herself against Vincent, sliding her pelvis forward and back, the need to have him inside her growing every second. Vincent's hands clamped down on her hips like vices, urging her on. She reached down and behind her, grasping him while quieting her hips. Vincent gasped as she took him in her hand and aligned him with her entrance. Slick with desire, she eased herself down slowly and he entered her easily. Simultaneous moans of pleasure escaped them both.  
  
Closing her eyes Catherine tilted her head back and relished the feeling of how he filled her. A whispering sigh of, "Oh … God," was all she could manage as her passion began to thrum through her once more, sending warm tingles down her arms and chest, pooling in her stomach. Before she realized it she was moving again, rocking her hips back and forth with alternate undulations of her pelvis which moved Vincent in and out of her and pushed him up against her walls. She groaned out her lust, moving faster now, rubbing against him harder, needing that lust to swell up and take her once more.  
  
Vincent began to move with her, thrusting upward as she rocked forward. With each thrust his large hands forced her tiny hips against him and a blaze of pleasure shot through her as the bundle of nerves at the crux of her sex rubbed against his pubic bone. She bit her lip and let out a hiss, tilting her head back down and opening her eyes to find Vincent staring at her. As their eyes met his thrusts suddenly doubled in urgency. He pulled harder at her and she responded without thinking, rocking faster and pushing into him. His breath was erratic, coming in rough gulps of air. Animal grunts escaped his throat with each thrust as he exhaled. He was in a frenzy now, equal to her own. She knew he was close and wanted that for him more than anything. But she was close, too. And she wanted it for both of them. She wanted it all.  
  
Catherine tilted her pelvis forward and pushed harder against Vincent with each thrust, rocketing faster toward her release. She knew she only had seconds and she needed to bring herself the to edge ahead of Vincent so she could pull them both over together.  
  
Their eyes were still locked together and Catherine ground out between strangled breaths, "I'm … almost there. Almost … there. Wait for me."  
  
Vincent said nothing and Catherine felt his muscles tense more beneath her - if that was even possible - his body crying out for release. But his brow was scrunched down in determination and his eyes told her everything she needed to know. They bored into her and were filled with a devotion and adoration that told her he would wait for her - for a lifetime if need be.  
  
That he would wait for her no matter what was the key that opened the floodgates. Catherine's body erupted, ecstasy coursing through her. White sparkles clouded the edges of her vision as her body lost its rhythm, jerking wildly against Vincent. She felt her walls clamping around Vincent, pulsating as she shuddered with each electric jolt.  
  
As her body reeled Vincent's hands clamped down tighter around her hips, pulling her hard against him, stilling her spasms. Even within the throes of her own orgasm she felt him expand inside her, pushing against her walls. She captured his eyes again just as Vincent cried out and a pulsating warmth filled her, both body and soul.  
  
With Catherine still straddling Vincent's lap they desperately clung to each other as their convulsions slowed and they both started breathing again, gulping for air. The warmth of tears filled Catherine's eyes as feelings of joy and contentment washed over her. She cupped Vincent's face in her hands and tenderly kissed him. A kiss she knew would tell him, more than anything else, what he meant to her. After a moment Catherine pulled back and then wrapped her arms behind his neck, burying her head in the crook of his neck, tears of happiness dripping from her chin onto his shoulder.  
  
She didn't know how much time had passed when Vincent slowly leaned back onto the bed, pulling her down on top of him. She snuggled into his embrace while warm memories of their rickety, little army cot came to her mind.  
  
Catherine let out a deep sigh. "I've missed you," she whispered.  
  
"Never again," Vincent whispered back.  
  
"Never again," Catherine echoed as she settled deeper into his arms.


	11. Chapter 11

Catherine lay dozing in Vincent's arms, cradled there in the aftermath of their lovemaking. He studied the contours of her face, tracing the soft curves of her body with his finger-tips. He'd been struck by her beauty when he'd first laid eyes on her in the Afghan desert seven years ago, a self-confident, newly minted doctor with a big heart needing to care for the sick and wounded. It was her heart as well as her sweet, fairy-like features that he'd fallen in love with. And she hadn't changed. Sure, she was older. But her beauty had matured and her spirit had found its place doing what she loved, which made her that much more irresistible to him. And he was amazed she was here, with him this very second, sleeping in the protection of his arms.

But she could just as easily not be here. Fate could take her from him in an instant, just as it had seven years before. No, she hadn't died then, thank the gods for that. But fate's fickle fingers had still ripped her away and left him with a never-ending pain and emptiness. Vincent tightened his grip around her. He'd never let her out of his sight again. That is, if she'd have him back.

She'd said she wanted him. Did that mean she wanted more than just his body, his kisses, his arms around her? _Never again_ , he'd said, meaning he'd never let her go. She'd said it too. But did she mean the same as he? Did her words carry the same commitment as his, or did they mean something else to her?

A deep sighed moved through him. It must have woken Catherine because her eyes slowly opened and when she saw him looking at her a smile spread slowly across her face.

"It's not a dream," she whispered, reaching up to rest her fingers on his cheek. "Well," she corrected herself, "it is, and then, it isn't."

Vincent chuckled, covering her hand on his cheek with his own.

"How long have I been asleep," she asked.

"Only half an hour," he said. "It's about half-past ten."

"Might I get an encore performance?" Catherine asked, her smile turning coy. Just then her stomach lurched out a gurgle that turned her red with embarrassment. She hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before.

Vincent let out a full throated laugh. "A repeat performance is definitely on the program. But first, you need to eat something before you waist away."

"But-" Catherine started to protest.

Vincent put a finger to her lips. "You need to eat. Also, my veterinarian is coming by at eleven to look at one of my alpacas."

"Alpacas?" Catherine said. "You have alpacas?"

"And a couple of llamas, too. I need to take care of this and I don't want to cut my encore short. I'll make the wait worth your while." He waggled his eyebrows and inclined his head toward the bathroom. "Remember how big the shower is?"

Catherine giggled and then shrieked as he stood and picked her up in his arms, heading toward the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, after hands had lathered and massaged and rediscovered each other, Vincent toweled off while Catherine stood under the hot spray. "Come on down when your ready. I'll have JT rustle up some breakfast," he said.

"JT cooks?" Catherine asked, turning off the shower.

"JT does everything," Vincent said. "The guy's brilliant. A renaissance man."

Catherine opened the shower door and crooked her finger, gesturing for Vincent to come to her. He leaned toward her and their lips met with a soft smack. They both pulled back a hair, then pushed into each other several more times, exaggerating the smacking sound as their lips touched and released.

"I could get used to having a goddess in my shower," Vincent murmured as they held their faces close. "See you in a while."

He gave Catherine one last smacking kiss. As he pulled away the loss of her touch immediately saddened him. But he turned and hustled into the bedroom where he pulled on his clothes.

Vincent hurried down the hallway. Alex, the veterinarian, would be here soon and she'd want his alpaca prepared for the examination. He froze, mid step, as the realization hit him like a freight train. Oh crap. _Alex_ was almost here. Dr. Alex Salter, his veterinarian. And his ex-lover. Who still wanted him. Who sought out every possible opportunity to try to get back together with him, even though for the past two years he'd been clear - gentle, but clear - that he wasn't interested in a romantic relationship with her any longer. A queasy knot twisted his insides and his shoulders tightened anticipating the advances she was sure to throw at him.

He started walking again, climbing down the open stairway to the main floor. The stairs landed in a large living room with walls of rough hewn logs, the same as the bedroom. Western style artwork and decor surrounded large, brown leather furniture. The showpiece of the room was the gigantic fireplace against one wall made out of large river rocks, climbing all the way up to the vaulted ceiling some sixteen feet above. A hot fire crackled inside sending out waves of dry, comfortable heat.

The entire floor was one huge room. Beyond the living room and to the left was a huge breakfast bar which separated the living room from an enormous kitchen with modern, silver appliances and an island in the center. An apron clad JT busied himself at one of the counters, an intent look on his face. Across from the kitchen was a dining area with a huge oak table and a dozen chairs spread out around it.

Vincent surveyed his home. It was warm and lived in, not cold or sterile. It was big, but inviting. But still, it was _big_. He wondered if it might be too big. Maybe his home was too ostentatious and Catherine would disapprove. He wasn't one to flaunt his wealth in front of others. But this was his home, his _dream_ , and he'd decided to build a home that would fit both of their dreams, even though he thought she was dead. A home big enough to live in for the rest of their lives with children and then grandchildren. Except he'd known that never was going to happen. But now …

_Wow, slow down, big guy. You just found her again. And you were only with her for a month. Just one month. Let's take this one step at a time._

Striding through the kitchen toward the mudroom in the back of the house Vincent paused by JT. The knife in JT's hand moved as if it had a mind of its own, slicing and dicing a variety of vegetables with a speed and precision that seemed humanely impossible. Vincent smiled to himself. There were two places JT would rather be. One was in the sky, flying. And if he couldn't do that, then he preferred to be in the kitchen, cooking. Vincent hadn't exaggerated when he'd described JT as a _renaissance man_.

"JT, could you fix something to eat for Catherine and I. Just something simple. I know you've got other stuff to do."

"Got nothin' better to do than cookin', boss," JT said. "Omelets and fruit okay?"

"Sounds great," Vincent replied.

"Good. Already on it," JT said, pointing his knife down at the diced veggies on the cutting board in front of him. "When's chow time?" he asked, the knife resuming its vegetable onslaught.

"About thirty minutes. I've got to meet Alex right now about one of the alpacas. Shouldn't take more time than that."

The knife stopped dead in JT's hand. He gave Vincent a _you've got to be crazy_ look. "Alex is coming here? Today?" He shook his head. "Call her. Cancel. Reschedule!" he said in rapid succession.

"Can't. She'll be her any minute."

"Boss, this sounds like a recipe for disaster if you ask me … no pun intended, by the way."

Vincent nodded and sighed. "No argument there. So much has happened in the last 18 hours I totally forgot Alex was coming today. I mean … I didn't exactly plan to bring Catherine here - at least, not this soon."

JT gave him an impatient eye roll, as if he knew something Vincent didn't, then said, "What if she comes down looking for you before Alex leaves?"

"Just …," Vincent cast his arms around as if trying to pull an answer from the air, "… stall her."

JT's eyes widened. "Stall her? You want me to … _stall_ her? Exactly how, pray tell, do I _stall_ her?"

"Ask her to help you cook."

JT raised a contemptuous eyebrow. "Not gonna happen. Not in my kitchen," he said.

"Technically, it's my kitchen," Vincent retorted with a half laugh.

"Technically, possession is nine-tenths of the law. If you want this kitchen back you'll have to pry this knife from my cold, dead hand."

This drew snort of laughter from Vincent. "Just tell her the truth. That I'm out in the barn with the vet looking at a sick alpaca. She already knows that much anyway. If she insists on going outside, tell her that its cold and dark and dirty and smelly in the barn and that I'll be back before she knows it."

"So," JT mused, "tell her the truth, _except_ the part about the veterinarian being smokin' hot, that she used to be your girlfriend and that she's still obsessed with you like the psycho babe in _Basic Instinct?"_

"Yeah. Something like that," Vincent said, drolly.

"Oh," JT responded as if it all made perfect sense. "no problem."

Vincent gave him a smile and JT waived him off. He left JT in the kitchen as he made his way to the mudroom and pulled on his boots and a warm, winter work jacket. Alex would be here soon and he needed to get the barn open and the alpaca out from its stall.

He hadn't even thought about Alex and Catherine being in proximity of one another. Hell, it had never crossed his mind because it had never been a possibility before. In his excitement of finding Catherine again, in the impulsivity of bringing her to Oregon, in the euphoria of their love making, he hadn't even considered that Alex would be here, in the same place and at the same time as Catherine. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

 _Difficult_ didn't exactly describe how this might turn out. _Disaster_ was the word that came to mind. But it had to be done. Alex needed to see his alpaca. Maybe if he rushed her, got her in and out and sent her on her way quickly, she and Catherine would never meet. He wasn't looking forward to explaining Catherine to Alex, nor Alex to Catherine for that matter. Even though he owed Alex nothing and they had been apart for years, Alex still got jealous easily and she made no secret of wanting him back.

As Vincent pulled on his coat he heard the crunch of tires on snow in the back of the house and looked out the backdoor window to see Alex's four-wheel drive Jeep pull-up and park. He took in a deep breath and steeled his nerve. He could do this. Stepping out onto the back porch and down the snow dusted steps he walked toward Alex as she climbed out of her Jeep.

"Hey, Alex," he said. "Thanks for coming."

Alex was almost as tall as Vincent, with long, reddish-auburn hair and freckles on a face that was both soft and feminine as well as tough and competent. And despite the thick down-filled denim coat she wore, it was clear she was slender with curves in all the right places. Before Vincent could do anything she stepped up to him, encircled her arms around his waist and pulled him toward her.

"Of course," Alex said. "It's my job. And the perks …," she paused and ground her pelvis into his, "are definitely worth it."

Even through the thickness of both their coats Vincent felt her pressure on his groin and his treasonous body responded to the sensuality of her embrace despite his willing it to do otherwise. Alex knew him well. She knew the male in him had a hard time ignoring the shear aggressive sensuality that was Alex Salter. And since they hadn't seen each other for several weeks she seemed motivated to remind him of that fact.

Vincent felt the heat of his blush. He didn't want Catherine to see him in this compromising position and get the wrong idea. Their reunion was still so new, and so fragile. He didn't want to jeopardize it.

"Nice to see you, too," Vincent said as he turned and squirmed, trying to pry himself from Alex's grip. He trapped her forearms in his hands and gently forced her to let go and step back.

Alex stuck out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout, then flashed him a seductive smile as she noticed the bulge in his jeans, just below the hem of his coat. "I can tell," she cooed.

Vincent rolled his eyes and turned toward the barn. "Come on. She's in her stall. I'm not sure what's wrong with her but she's been acting funny for a week or so."

Alex strode up beside Vincent and linked her arm through his, pulling close to his side as if she was a courtier and he was escorting her into a grand ballroom. For a moment he thought about unlinking their arms and pushing her away, nervous about being seen by Catherine. But Catherine was probably still up in her room and Alex's chastisement if he pushed her away again just wasn't worth the effort. Anyway, in a few seconds they'd be in the barn and out of sight of the house and there he could detach her from him without argument because they would have to attend to his sick alpaca.

They walked into the modern, wood-pole barn and closed the door behind them. It was a large building with twenty individual stalls and the typical grooming, equipment and food storage areas.

"So, I was thinking ...," Alex said in a sing-song voice, "that I want to take you out to dinner. Let's go to Sunriver or Eagle Crest lodge. Gourmet food. Fine wine. Dancing. You deserve to have some fun."

Vincent gave a mental groan. He knew why Alex had asked him out on a date. Next weekend would mark the third year since they'd met. Although they'd only been in a relationship for one year and not involved for the past two, Alex still remembered their _anniversary_ and had sent Vincent cards and gifts in remembrance. Of course, her thinly veiled ulterior motive was that she wanted them back together and she'd hoped the nostalgia of their _anniversary_ might spark some interest in him for the same.

Alex had been more than a fling, as a full year in a relationship with her attested. She was a brilliant person along with being a brilliant doctor. She was independent, self-confident, witty and fun. Not to mention she was drop-dead gorgeous and had no problem asserting herself in bed. At first her passion had been exhilarating and the sex, mind-blowing. He'd enjoyed their escapades in bed … a lot. But as time passed he couldn't find the deeper connection beyond the fun and the sex. He'd tried, honestly tried. But whatever spark exists that links two souls together, it hadn't existed between him and Alex, and he couldn't find it no matter how hard he searched.

For someone who'd never experienced that spark with another, he supposed a relationship with Alex would go beyond fulfilling. She was an incredible woman. But Vincent _knew_ what the spark of that soul connection was like. He'd felt it not so many years in the past with a woman he could never forget and who he'd thought was lost to him. And as much as he cared for Alex, he could never get that other woman out of his mind. Alex had deserved more than to live with Catherine's legacy hanging over her and Vincent knew he couldn't be with Alex in a healthy, committed relationship because he was damaged goods.

So, he'd ended their relationship. He'd been gentle and had explained everything to Alex. She'd been devastated at first. But eventually she came around and it wasn't long before she was back to her old self. But Alex _never_ had given up on getting back together with Vincent and she was not above using her feminine charms on him to her advantage any time she could. And she definitely had some incredible _feminine charms_.

They walked down the center of the barn, stalls on either side, Alex's arm still linked with Vincent's. "Thanks Alex, but I've got a lot going on with work lately and I'll probably be out of town."

Alex unlinked her arm from Vincent's, dropping her hand down and grabbing his butt through his jeans. He jerked forward in surprise.

"You work to damn hard, Vincent Keller. And you've become a hermit. You need to get out and play more." She lowered her voice to a soft, seductive hum. "You know you can play with me. No strings attached." She squeezed his butt again and he felt his earlier arousal begin to stir, despite his effort to think of stock prices and security protocols and computers and weapons and anything else that would take his mind off the beauty next to him with her very capable hand on his backside.

A wave of relief went through Vincent as they reached the stall of his sick alpaca. He leaned over the half-height door and pointed to the animal. Alex shifted gears, moving from seductive temptress to astute physician. When it came to her work she was the consummate professional, arguably the best large animal veterinarian in Central Oregon. She knew it, too, and charged accordingly. But Vincent was grateful he could afford her and despite their past relationship he wanted the best care possible for his menagerie.

Alex opened the stall door and she and Vincent stepped in side. The small animal stood about three feet high at the shoulder, weighing maybe one hundred and twenty-five pounds and was covered with a thick brown and white coat. It didn't move, unalarmed by its visitors.

"What other symptoms besides lethargy?" Alex asked as she knelt down and begin to push her hands through the thick fiber of its wool, searching out its body. Vincent knew she was trying to palpate the animal, which was a challenge with its dense coat.

"She seems to be eating and drinking more and she's going through salt blocks faster," he replied.

Alex moved around to the other side, continuing her examination. Then she checked the alpaca's eyes and examined its nose, mouth and throat. Vincent smiled as he watched Alex's mindfulness of the animal's behavior, knowing she was wary of the possibility it might spit at her. But the docile animal just stood there and let Alex have her way.

Alex _hummed_ and _hawed_ and finally stood up, running her hand down the animal's head, like petting a dog. She looked up at Vincent and he was surprised by the huge smirk on her face.

"Congratulations," she said. "You're gonna be a poppa."

Vincent was stunned. "She's pregnant? Are you sure?"

Alex scowled at him. "No," she said. "I'm just making a wild stab in the dark." She gave him an incredulous glare. "Of course I'm sure. I'd estimate about six months. You've got about 5 months to go. She'll deliver sometime in the spring."

Vincent felt the smile curve his lips as he blew out a sigh of relief. "That's great!" he said. "So, she's all right?"

"She's fine. In fact, better than fine. When I get back to the office I'll write-up a nutrition plan and email it to you. Other than that, alpacas are hardy animals and she doesn't exactly have a tough life here, so she'll be finer than frogs hair."

Alex gave the alpaca one last stroke on its head and then she and Vincent stepped out of the stall, closing the door behind them. Alex linked her arm through Vincent's again and they started walking through the barn.

Vincent's thoughts spun. His initial surprise had turned to elation. He'd wanted his alpacas to breed eventually, but they were all still young. He was excited at the prospect of witnessing his sweet little alpaca, which he'd named Catherine, carry her baby to term. He couldn't wait to tell JT - and Catherine. He wondered what Catherine would think. Would she be as excited as he? Would she wonder at the miracle it was? Of course she would. Well, maybe she wouldn't be quite as excited as Vincent, but she was a doctor and he'd seen her wonder at the miracle of new lives as she and the medical team in Afghanistan delivered several babies during the month they'd been together. A warmth filled his chest, a feeling between awe and joy. This was just too cool.

Vincent was jerked from his thoughts as Alex stopped and spun him to face her, then shoved both of her hands against his chest, knocking him backwards. The back of his legs hit a bale of hay sitting on the ground and he toppled into a pile of fresh straw. As he landed unceremoniously on his butt he realized that while he'd been distracted Alex had walked them further into the barn, not back toward the door.

The next thing he knew a weight landed on his chest forcing the breath from his lungs. Alex had jumped on top of him, her hands and legs straddling him, her weight holding him down. Smiling and laughing she said, "You are absolutely adorable when you have that _deer-in-the-headlights_ look on your face." Then she pushed all her weight against him and crashed her lips into his.

Vincent froze, shocked at Alex's unsuspected tactic. That she would flirt with him was a given. But this went way beyond flirting. Caught off guard and flustered Vincent struggled to come up with a response. He wanted to push her away violently, but didn't want to hurt her, so his arms flailed, useless, at his sides. He tried to speak, but Alex just kissed him harder. After another couple of moments Vincent grabbed Alex's forearms and began to struggle against her grip, trying to push her away, which only made Alex push harder into him. This was getting out of control and he needed to end it, fast.

As Vincent struggled a loud gasp came from behind Alex, loud enough to make her stop and turn around to search, along with Vincent, for its source. Standing in the middle of the walkway, a look of horror on her face, stood Catherine. In an instant Vincent witnessed a myriad of emotions ghost across Catherine's face, ending in painful disbelief. She sucked in a hard breath, then turned and sprinted out of the barn.


	12. Chapter 12

Vincent watched in horror as Catherine turned and sprinted out of the barn. "Wait!" he called after her. "It's … it's not what it looks like." But Catherine was already out the door.

For a moment he felt helpless. Then anger roared up in him and he glared at Alex as she turned back to face him. He knew he must look scary and every muscle in his body was wound tight, about to explode. Alex must have felt his body tense underneath her and the look of surprise - almost fear - on her face gave Vincent a clue that his face was a study in seething anger. She recoiled and stopped her advances.

Vincent took a deep breath to calm himself. He need to get control of his desperation-fueled anger so he wouldn't do anything rash, like accidentally hurt Alex. He took in another breath and rose to his knees, clasping Alex's forearms pushing her up and away from him. She released him as he pushed her back toward the hay bale he'd tripped over until finally the backs of her legs hit it and she sat down hard with an unceremonious thump. He stood and glowered at her.

Alex sat quietly for a moment, studying his face. Then she said, "Who was that and why are you so pissed?" After a moment her eyes widened and she said, "Oh … a new girlfriend? She is, isn't she!" Alex accused. "Well, I guess she knows she's got some competition."

Vincent let out a growl. "Alex, you're _not_ competition because we're _not_ in a relationship." He shook his head in frustration and looked at the ground. "And now _this_ relationship may be over before it begins."

"Maybe that's for the best," Alex said, her voice lilting. "After all, you certainly seemed interested enough in me after I arrived."

Vincent's head snapped up and he shot her a glare. "You're a goddamned doctor, Alex. You, of all people, know how this works. An attractive woman I used to have sex with shoves her crotch against mine and starts gyrating and my body responds with a half-million years of instinct - and that's supposed to mean I'm interested in you? You think a guy can just turn that off and on like flipping a light switch? If you do, you should have flunked out of medical school."

Alex frowned at Vincent. "Well, if you weren't interested why didn't you push me away?"

Vincent threw his hands up, letting out a frustrated groan. "Push you away?" he said, incredulously. "For a smart woman you can be pretty dense some times. What do you think I was trying to do when you grabbed me outside? When we got in the barn I literally peeled you off me." Vincent leaned over and swatted his hand hard against his legs to brush off his jeans and let off some steam at the same time. " _No_ means _no_ , Alex. I've been telling you _no_ for the past two years. You rub your crotch against mine knowing full-well how my body will react and then you grab my arm and ask me out to dinner and because I don't knock you on your butt, you think that means _yes_?" Vincent let out a sardonic chuckle. "Talk about role reversal. Maybe that's what I should have done, just tossed you on your butt."

Alex shifted nervously on the hay bale. "Oh …" she said, her voice small. "Yeah …, I …, guess you're right. But why didn't you say something? Why didn't you tell me she was here?"

"Because it's none of your damn business. It's my private life, Alex. All I ask is that you respect it - respect me."

Alex looked at the straw strewn floor and slowly nodded her head. "You're right. I didn't play fair."

Vincent snorted. "That's an understatement."

"I'm sorry," she said earnestly. "Let me go talk to her. Let me explain. She deserves to know what just happened."

"No," Vincent said. "That's not a good idea. I think the best thing right now is for you to leave."

"But let me do something. At least let me tell her what kind of person you are. She needs to know that this was my fault, not yours."

"She's known me for a long time. She knows what type of person I am," Vincent said. _I hope she does_ , he thought, but didn't voice that to Alex.

Alex quirked an eyebrow. "She's known you for a long time?" she questioned. "Is she an old friend? An old girlfriend?"

Vincent winced, realizing he'd unintentionally let the cat out of the bag. But he didn't want to lie to Alex, he never had. So he said, "An old girlfriend."

"Which one? What's her name?" Alex asked.

Vincent had told Alex about his past relationships, there weren't that many. "Catherine," he said.

"Catherine?" Alex looked puzzled. "But you've never had a girlfriend named Catherine, at least, not that you told me about. I thought you told me about all of your relationships."

"I did," Vincent said, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Alex was smart and he knew she'd _do the math_ and figure it out in a few seconds.

Sure enough Alex's eyes grew wide and she blurted out, "You mean … Catherine … from Afghanistan?"

Vincent nodded.

"But I thought she was …," her voice trailed off.

Vincent sighed. "And she thought I was dead, too. Remember when I told you about the army mistaking my identity while I was in recovery in Ramstein?"

She nodded.

"That's why Catherine thought I was dead. I just found out a month ago she was alive. I contacted her and we agreed to meet yesterday afternoon in Chicago - where she lives."

"Oh my god," Alex whispered. "That must have been amazing news." She paused and then scrunched her brow, her mind obviously going a mile a minute. A look of revelation filled her face and she took in a sharp breath. "And it must have been terrifying, too."

Vincent let out a sigh, glad their argument had dissolved. "Yeah, I guess," he said, shrugging his shoulders. Thinking about what Alex said he realized she was right. He had been excited, but also there _was_ this underlying fear - almost terror - running through him and he needed to figure out what it was. He had a pretty good idea. He knew if he lost Catherine again it would be his undoing and that scared him more than anything else he'd ever experienced.

"And you still brought her … here," Alex said, gesturing broadly with her hand to mean everything around her, "to her dream. Except, you didn't know she was alive when you built this. What does she think about all of this?"

"The verdict's still out," Vincent said.

Vincent saw Alex swallow hard. "I've really messed-up, haven't I."

He felt a pang of sympathy. "You were just being _Alex_. And that is one of the reasons I love you. But you have to get this through your head - even though I love you and always will - I am not _in love_ with you."

Alex seemed to pull herself together, straightening her spine and looking Vincent in the eye. "You've always been clear about not wanting to get back together. I just couldn't help myself. You're a pretty special man, Vincent Keller. But this changes everything. I love you too and the last thing I will ever do is hurt you." She gave him questioning look. "Are you sure I can't talk to her, try to smooth things over?"

All Vincent did was squint and give her a grimace.

"Yeah … right," she said, nodding her head in understanding. "I've probably done enough for one day." She stood. "Vincent, I'm so sorry. I feel sick about this, but you're right, I need to go now."

"That's probably best," he said. "I'll call you about Catherine and you can come out and monitor her progress."

Alex gave him a dumbfounded stare. "Wha … what?"

At her reaction Vincent realized he hadn't called his alpaca, - his little girl - by her name in front of Alex. "Catherine, my alpaca," he clarified.

"You named your alpaca, Catherine?" Alex asked.

"Uh huh," he said.

Alex's mouth turned up into a wry smile. "You really _do_ have it bad, don't you."

Vincent rolled his eyes. "You have no idea."

"Actually," Alex said, her face a little sad, "I do. She's a lucky woman."

"We'll see," he said.

They walked out of the barn, a respectable distance between them. As Alex stood by her Jeep Vincent noticed she stopped herself just before she would have automatically leaned in to kiss him. Instead, she reached out and gave his hand a squeeze, then climbed into her Jeep and drove away.

Vincent turned toward the backdoor of his house, watching the steam of his breath in the cold air rise in front of him. He felt like he was on a roller coaster, given all the emotional and physical ups and downs and twists and turns of the past twenty-four hours. It seemed like the universe still conspired to keep he and Catherine apart, driving any wedge between them it could find. At any other time this debacle with Alex would be difficult to explain, but still something resolvable. But now, with his and Catherine's newly rediscovered relationship as fragile as the strand of a spider's web, his body tensed with fear that this incident might snap their tenuous connection.

His chest tightened and despair began to rise up in him. He couldn't lose her again. Not now. Not after he'd found her. He needed to explain what happened, to apologize to her for his own naiveté, to reassure her that there was nothing between him and Alex. He fought down the fear and pulled from deep within himself the focused determination that had driven him most of his life as a soldier and as a businessperson. He inhaled a deep breath of cold air and stepped toward the house.


	13. Chapter 13

Catherine heard Vincent call after her as she ran from the barn, reeling from the sight of him in the arms of another woman. She didn't stop. Her thoughts were jumbled and her eyes burned with threatening tears. She looked left, then right, but had no idea where to go. All she knew was the house and even then, very little about it. On autopilot her body took her there, rushing in through the back door and bolting through the kitchen past JT and into the living room.

Stopping in the middle of the huge space Catherine surveyed her surroundings, not sure what to do next. When she'd come down the stairs earlier the living area had seemed full and inviting and warm. Now it seemed cavernous and empty and cold. Out of the corner of her eye she saw JT had stopped what he'd been doing in the kitchen and stared at her. Embarrassment coursed through her at his scrutiny, immediately replaced by suspicion and anger. JT had tried to convince her not to go out looking for Vincent. It was obvious he knew about Vincent's clandestine meeting with the red-headed woman. She clenched her fists by her side, her nails digging painfully into her palms. It wasn't only Vincent who'd betrayed her, but JT as well.

Still, it wasn't the confusion or embarrassment or anger that hurt the most. What cut her to the quick was the overpowering shame. Shame that draped itself over her like an old musty cloak, unwanted and rank with the odor of mildew and decay. Shame that she had been so naive about Vincent she'd allowed adolescent desires to overrule the adult Catherine's better judgment.

 _I'm acting like an idiotic schoolgirl. What was I thinking, coming here?_ She shook her head, struggling to keep the tears at bay.

Did she really think after seven years of believing each other dead they could just start-up their relationship where they'd left off? How could she act as if Vincent didn't have other relationships in his life to deal with? Lord knew, she had a few of her own lurking in the background. Was it even fair to put that expectation on him? Maybe not, but it wasn't fair for him to deceive her, either. She was owed an explanation and she was damn sure going to get it.

She whirled around and faced JT across the large expanse. "You knew she was out there," she said, point an accusing finger at him. "You tried to stop me from finding them together. What's going on? Who the hell is she?"

JT put the utensils in his hands down and slowly untied his apron, setting it on the counter. He stepped around to the living room side of the breakfast bar and sat in one of the tall, swivel stools, turning to face her. He let out a sigh. "She's the veterinarian."

"Bullshit!" Catherine snapped.

JT was unfazed by her anger. He had a pained - almost guilty - look on his face. "It's true. She really is. Dr. Alex Salter. And …" he shrugged, "she and Vincent had a relationship. But that's been over for a couple of years," he added quickly.

"I find that hard to believe," Catherine spat back.

JT furrowed a confused brow. "What do you mean? What happened out there? What did you see?"

"The _doctor_ ," Catherined said, her tone thick with sarcasm, "was paying attention to a _patient_ other than the alpaca or llama or camel or whatever the hell she was supposed to look at. She was on top of Vincent in a pile of hay playing tonsil-hockey."

JT let out a hiss and swore under his breath. "Goddammit, Alex." He looked up at Catherine. "I'm sure it wasn't what it looked like. You need to talk to the big guy. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation."

"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out," Catherine ground out.

She'd gotten a good look at the _doctor_. Even in her heavy winter clothes Catherine could tell the doctor was a beauty. With her long reddish hair, piercing blue eyes, full hips and long, lean legs - it was no contest. There was no way Catherine could compete with someone like the doctor. Catherine was short, and petite - all the way around - and lacked the supermodel facial features of the veterinarian. She may be able to meet the doctor toe-to-toe when it came to brain-power, but she would loose on all other fronts. It made sense that the vet would continue to be attracted to Vincent. He was classically tall and dark and handsome with a body you wanted to get lost in. As she had, just an hour before.

Catherine shook her head in self-disgust. There was no way she could compare to the type of women who would throw themselves at a multi-millionaire entrepreneur with the body of a Greek god. She'd been foolish to think Vincent would settle for her when he could have any woman he wanted. He was only reliving a fantasy, their lost dream. But when push came to shove, when reality came to rest, he'd most likely realize he could do better than her. She didn't want to be around when that happened.

Just then Vincent rushed into the kitchen from the mudroom, heading toward the living room. As he drew up to the breakfast bar he saw Catherine and stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at her and she fought to match his gaze, to not turn away. His face was pained and his shoulders slumped. To say he looked guilty was an understatement.

There was a long pause, the tension thick in the air between the three of them. Vincent turned to JT, "Can you give us a couple of minutes?"

"Sure. No problem," JT said, relief ringing in his voice. He jumped off the stool, almost running up the stairs and disappeared.

Vincent brought his eyes back to Catherine. "I don't know where to start?" he said, his voice forlorn.

Anger burned in her belly but a little pang of sympathy moved in her chest, so she said, "JT told me about you and Alex."

Vincent let out a relieved sigh. "And did he tell you we're not in a relationship and haven't been for a long time?"

"Yes," Catherine said. "But _that_ doesn't explain what I saw in the barn." She broke her gaze with Vincent and looked away.

"I know," he said, "and I'm really sorry. I don't want to make any excuses."

"Then don't," she said. "Just tell me what happened."

"It's my fault," he said. "I know Alex still wants to get back together. Hell, she's been wanting that for two years. I should have told her to come back at another time. I was stupid to think she wouldn't flirt with me."

"Flirt with you?" Catherine said her eyebrows raised. "You call that flirting?"

"No," he said, sheepishly. "That was definitely not flirting. She was in full-on seduction mode. She's not like that … usually."

"Usually?" Catherine said, still incredulous.

"Geez, this is coming out all wrong," Vincent said, pushing out a frustrated breath. He paused, as if trying to collect his thoughts. Catherine stared at him, waiting, giving him no wiggle room. Finally he said, "Okay. In a nutshell - Alex made a couple of passes at me and I refused. In the barn she pushed me over a hay bale and then jumped on me. That's when you walked in."

Catherine kept her gaze on Vincent, saying nothing.

Vincent's hands started to fidget nervously. "I messed-up and I'm sorry," he said.

Catherine dropped her gaze. More silence filled the space between them. Finally she said softly, "Maybe it's for the best."

Vincent stepped forward until only a couple of arm lengths separated them. "What do you mean," he said, his face worried.

"Maybe this is all happening too fast," she replied. "Maybe we need to take a step back - take a breath. I can't compete with your past and I certainly can't compete with the kind of women who want you. I'm just a mid-west girl who's an ER doc. Nothing fancy or glamorous. You can have your pick of any woman you want."

Vincent's face blanched white and Catherine could feel the tension from his body radiate across the distance between them.

"I've already picked who I want. I only need _one_ woman to want me. And that's you," he said quietly.

"Vincent, we need to be realistic, we don't-"

A thunderous, pounding knock came from the front door on the far side of the living room, cutting Catherine off.

Vincent ignored the noise, keeping his attention on Catherine. "Catherine, I am so sorry. I'm not interested in anyone else. I don't want anyone else." He gave his head a frustrated shake, panic on his face. "You said it yourself. I can have anyone-"

The pounding on the door sounded again, louder.

"Aren't you going to see who's here?" Catherine asked.

"We don't get many visitors and right now, I don't care. Catherine, you said I could have anyone I want. If that's true, then what does all of this tell you? What does it say that I built your - our - dream? What does it say that I'm not in love with anyone, even if I could have any woman I wanted? What does it say that I never fell out of love with you?"

The pounding started on the front door again and this time it didn't stop.

JT leaned over the balcony, looking down at them. "You want me to get the door, Boss?"

Vincent pushed out a hard breath. "No," he said, his voice an angry growl, "I'll get it." He stalked forward past Catherine and made his way to the huge wooden door. He grabbed the handle and threw it open, revealing a tall, slender man standing on the front porch, shivering under clothing too light for the Central Oregon winter.

As Catherine caught sight of the man through the open door her breath stuttered and her stomach lurched hard, bile surging up into her throat. Then she gasped. The visitor hadn't noticed her standing further back in the huge living room. His attention was completely on Vincent.

Vincent seemed not to notice Catherine's reaction behind him as he scowled at the man in front of him and snapped, "What?"

"Are you Vincent Keller?" the man asked, his gaze as angry and challenging as Vincent's.

"Yes," Vincent said, curtly. "Who are you and what do you want?"

Before the man could reply his eyes swept over Catherine and his face transformed from intense anger to exhausted relief. "Catherine," he said. "Thank God. Are you all right?"

The stranger started to step through the door but Vincent put his hand on the man's chest stopping him where he stood. "I said," Vincent's voice was low and menacing, "who are you and what do you want?"

The man met Vincent's glare. "My name is Evan Marks and I've come to take my wife home."


	14. Chapter 14

Catherine's heart exploded in her chest, beating so hard she was afraid everyone in the room could hear it. For a moment she felt dizzy and she steadied herself on the side of the couch. Evan was here. Right here. In front of her and Vincent and JT. What the hell was Evan doing _here_?

She caught the relief in Evan's face as she struggled to regain her senses. Her gaze shifted to Vincent who looked absolutely befuddled, turning to her with a questioning expression. "What …, who …?" he sputtered, but was unable to speak. His shoulders slumped and he dropped his hand from Evan's chest, stepping back.

Evan paused, looking at Vincent, perhaps to make sure if he stepped into the house he wasn't going to get punched out. Vincent seemed to have forgotten Evan was standing in the doorway so Evan stepped inside and marched up to Catherine, enclosing her in an embrace.

"Thank god you're okay," he said again. "We were so worried about you. People were panicking."

Catherine shook off her daze and pushed Evan back so she could see his face. He kept his hands on her shoulders, refusing to let her go. "Panicked? Who was panicked?" she asked.

"Everyone," Evan said, his tone exasperated. "Gabe, Tess, the hospital staff … everyone. You just – disappeared. When you didn't answer your phone last night or this morning everyone started to freak-out. It's not like you to just take off without telling someone."

Catherine cringed. Evan was right. Now that she thought about it she _had_ just disappeared. She hadn't contacted anyone since she'd left the hospital the evening before. She hadn't even thought about it, so swept up she'd been in the fantasy of Vincent carrying her away like a knight on his Learjet steed. Guilt tugged at her chest. She hadn't even considered how her actions might impact her friends. If she'd been unsure before this was another confirmation that she was acting like an immature adolescent

She caught Evan's eyes. "But what are _you_ doing here?" she asked.

"Yeah," JT's voice came from the stair landing where he had descended from the balcony. "What are you doing here and how did you find this place?"

Catherine gave JT a glare but he didn't acquiesce, stepping toward them with grim intention in his face. The bodyguard part of him, she thought.

Evan ignored JT and said to Catherine, "They called me – Tess and Gabe – and told me you were missing. They told me about Keller and I accessed my connections to find you."

Catherine glanced at Vincent still standing by the front door looking shell-shocked, at a loss for words. He hadn't even had the presence of mind to close the door yet.

It was JT who spoke again. "Why did they call _you_? And you still haven't explained how you found this place. How did you track Vincent down? This place is about as far "off the radar" as we could make it."

Catherine responded to JT's query. "Evan's a cop. A Chicago detective. He's got resources."

"We were afraid Keller had taken you against your will," Evan said. "I was up all night. Called in a lot of favors to find this place. The FBI is on the way."

Catherine looked back to Evan and frowned. "The FBI? Why did you call the FBI?"

It was Vincent who spoke next and everyone turned to him in surprise. He had closed the door but hadn't moved. "Interstate transportation of a kidnap victim."

Shocked slammed through Catherine. "What?" She snapped her head back to Evan. "What's he talking about?"

Evan grimaced. "We thought you'd been kidnapped. You just up and disappeared without a trace. You didn't go to your condo. You didn't show up for work this morning. You didn't call. So, I contacted the FBI. I pulled some strings and convinced them to start looking for you immediately rather than waiting 48 hours. We're all looking for you and there's an arrest warrant out for Keller.

JT let out a loud moan. "Great. Just freaking great."

"You've got to call them," Catherine said frantically. "You've got to explain."

"Explain what, exactly?" asked Evan.

"Explain that I'm fine. That I wasn't kidnapped."

"Up until you just spoke those words, I didn't know any different. I still don't know what happened and I'm not doing anything until I get an explanation," Evan said. He turned to Vincent. "Mr. Keller?" he said with an expectant tone.

"Hey, bud," JT interjected, stepping toward Evan, "I don't care if you're the goddamned Chicago Chief of Police. I'm about ready to toss your ass out of here and let the lawyers do the talking."

Vincent blew out a loud breath and sighed. "It's alright, JT," he said, holding up a hand for JT to stop. He stepped away from the door, veering off toward a large leather chair by the fireplace and slumped into it. Catherine saw the dejected look on his face and a pang of worry rubbed uncomfortably against the back of her mind.

She stepped away from Evan, his hands falling from her shoulders. "Evan, I'm okay. Nothing's happened. I'm here of my own free will."

"I'd hardly say _nothing's happened_ ," Evan shot back. "Something's happened, I just don't know what." He looked over at Vincent who was staring into the fire. "Obviously Vincent Keller has risen from the dead. You want to tell me what that's about?"

Catherine sat on the arm of the couch, took in a deep breath and recounted for Evan all that had happened over the past two days, especially since the prior afternoon, including the fact that Vincent had thought she was dead as well. Catherine noticed that JT stood back listening intently, while Vincent - to her dismay - seemed uninterested, staring catatonically at the fire.

Evan grunted his displeasure as Catherine's story unfolded, but eventually he phoned his contact at the FBI and called off the manhunt.

"Vincent," Catherine said, "did you hear that? Evan called off the FBI. He understands what's going on."

Vincent didn't move, didn't react to her, never taking his eyes off the fire.

"Vincent? Vincent," she said, worry starting to morph into fear.

"JT…?" Catherine said, giving JT a questioning look, hoping for some help to understand what was happening with Vincent.

JT rolled his eyes. "There's one little bit of information that hasn't been explained," he said.

Catherine looked at him, puzzled.

"The small, minor, insignificant issue of Mr. Marks being … your _husband_ ," JT explained.

Catherine inhaled sharply. She'd completely forgotten about the bombshell Evan had dropped when he'd meet Vincent at the door. Crap. She turned toward Vincent again. "It's not what it looks like," she said, the words tumbling over themselves.

That drew a snort from Vincent as he continued to stare into the fire. "Sounds familiar," he said, sardonically.

Panic pulsed through her. It _did_ sound familiar. It was exactly what Vincent had yelled as she'd run out of the barn after witnessing, what she'd assumed was, a make-out session between Vincent and the doctor. She'd been wrong. But jealously had roared up inside her so strongly that her chest still hurt. She shook her head, this whole thing between them was getting so out of control it was insane.

Catherine walked around the couch to stand a few feet in front of Vincent and to the side, not blocking his view of the fire. She wanted to touch him but was afraid to, not sure if Vincent would reject her overture. The coward in her won and she kept a respectable distance. He didn't look up.

"Please, let me explain," Catherine said.

Vincent heaved a sigh, his eyes continued to bore holes into the fire. "It's alright, Catherine. You don't need to explain anything. You don't own me anything."

Helplessness surged through her. She looked up at Evan, and anger tightened her shoulders. "Evan, you're a bastard. Why did you do that?"

"Do what?" Evan said, straight faced.

Catherine let out a growl, her body thrumming with frustration. "You know exactly what - dropping the marriage bomb. We talked about that. You promised you wouldn't do that with my friends. Why now?"

Evan shifted his weight and gave Catherine a hard look. "Cat, I didn't know what the hell was going on. I didn't know if your were safe or not. I played the _wife_ card to make sure I got his cooperation."

"So,"JT chimed in, "you're _not_ really married."

Catherine let out a groan.

Evan smiled at JT. "Not exactly," he said. "We are married - _technically_."

A flush of embarrassed heat coursed up Catherine's neck, into her face, and she knew she must be beet-red. "Damn you, Evan Marks," she spat out. "Don't do this to me."

Evan must have heard the desperation in her voice because he acquiesced. "Okay, okay," he said. He turned to JT. "Catherine and I dated for a while about a year ago. On a whim we took a weekend trip to Las Vegas on one of those fifty dollar, round-trip plane tickets with free lodging. We had a lot of fun. And had a lot to drink. We were joking around and walked by one of those _get married now_ wedding chapels. In our drunken stupor we dared each other to get married. Well, neither one of us is the kind of person to back down from a dare. And the rest, as they say, is history."

"You actually got married?" JT asked.

"Yeah," Evan said.

After a moment of silence Catherine said to Evan, "Finish the story or I'll beat your ass."

Evan sighed and continued. "When we got back to Chicago and sobered up, reality hit us. We were actually, legally married. When we researched getting an annulment it was a little more complicated than we'd hoped, requiring a trip back to Nevada. It's been on our todo list for a while." Evan looked away as if focusing on something in the distance and said wistfully, "I sort of hoped she'd change her mind, eventually."

Catherine stepped in front of Vincent, squatting down so her face was level with his and he had to look at her. She took his hands in hers. "Vincent, I know this is really bizarre, but it's true. It was stupid and I should have taken care of this a long time ago."

"You don't need to apologize," Vincent said, his voice so quiet she could barely hear him. "You have a life and the right to live it. Then I come barging into your life out of the blue, completely oblivious to your circumstances and needs. He shook his head and slid his hands from Catherine's. "It's me who should apologize."

Catherine felt the loss of his hands in hers and the panic that had been stewing in the background began to surge forward again.

Vincent stood and stepped over to the fireplace, leaning against the river rocks, staring down into the fire. "You're right, you know," he said.

"About what," Catherine asked, tentatively.

"That I'm pushing to hard, moving too fast," Vincent said.

"It's not just you," Catherine said, "I'm just as responsible as you."

"No, Catherine, you're not. This is my fault. I'm the one who contacted you. I'm the one who pushed you to meet me just two days after you found out I was alive. I'm the one who forced you to come here."

"You didn't force me to do anything," Catherine blurted out.

Vincent ignored her comment as he continued. "You deserve more respect than I've given you. I've been acting like a love-struck teenager, a self-centered jerk. It's my fault this has spun out of control. If it hadn't been for me Detective Marks wouldn't have had to call the FBI. God, I've made a mess of things," he said as he scrubbed his hand through his hair.

"With all due respect," Evan said, "I couldn't agree more. Catherine, you need to come back to Chicago with me."

"Evan," Catherine growled, "I do _not_ consider us as married and you know it."

Evan gave her a scoff. "Of course I know it, even if I wished otherwise. I'm not talking about us. I talking about your responsibilities to family and friends and work."

Catherine opened her mouth to protest but Vincent cut her off.

"He's right," Vincent said, still staring at the fire. "And you're right, too. This is moving too fast. You need to go home, Catherine. You deserve to work through all of this without any pressure from me."

Nausea roiled in her stomach and Catherine felt her heart sink, both because Vincent was right and because he was literally sending her away. "You don't want me here?" she blurted out before she could censor her feelings.

Vincent snapped his eyes to hers, his expression pained. "This is bigger than me and what I want," he said. "I can't ruin your life, Catherine. I won't."

Vincent turned toward Evan. "Please take Catherine home, Detective Marks."

Turning to JT, Vincent said, "JT, call Joe and have him get the jet ready. Get Catherine's things from her room and then drive her and Detective Marks to the airport and fly them home."

Catherine slumped into a large leather chair, deflated and defeated. And the most frustrating part of everything was that, deep down, she knew Vincent was right. Her staying here under these circumstances was a recipe for disaster. She looked at the floor, tears of anger and frustration about to spill over.

"That won't be necessary," Evan said to Vincent. We can fly on a commercial carrier."

Vincent waived Evan off. To JT he said, "Make sure they're comfortable and get back safely."

Vincent turned to Catherine. She could see him trembling, his eyes tight. "I'm so sorry for making a mess of things. JT will take care of you. You'll … have to excuse me," he choked out as he gave Catherine one last sorrowful look and then turned and walked swiftly away, through the kitchen and out of sight into the mud room. A moment later she heard the back door slam closed.

Catherine stared after Vincent, stunned into silence. There really was nothing she could say, anyway. For whatever had just happened, she was as much to blame as Vincent, probably even more. And for the life of her she had no clue what to do about it. For the past 18 hours she'd lived a miracle, finding Vincent alive and being spirited away to her dream home, only to have everything ripped out from underneath her, just like Afghanistan. Despair weighed heavily on her heart and she couldn't hold the tears back any longer.

She wasn't sure how much time and passed, probably only a few minutes, when JT said," Catherine, I've got your personal belongings from your room. We're ready to leave."

She looked up at JT, barely registering what he'd said, her mind still swimming with flashes of the past day, awash with sorrow. Evan stepped in front of her, reached down and took her hands, pulling her up from the chair. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and started leading her toward the door. Catherine didn't protest. She didn't have any fight left in her. letting Evan lead her like a child. They walked outside and climbed into the black SUV.

"We'll take care of you rental car, Detective Marks," JT said.

"Thank you," Evan said.

To Catherine, their conversation was almost an unrecognizable buzz in the background of her mind.

As the SUV drove down the long gravel driveway Catherine turned and looked back at the beautiful log home, hoping to catch one last glimpse of Vincent on the porch or looking out a window. But he wasn't there. Her heart broke as her dream was stolen from her once again.


	15. Chapter 15

"Geez, Cat. Call him, for God's sake." Catherine looked up from her office desk to see Tess leaning against her door frame giving her a disapproving look. "It's been two months and you're a walking zombie."

Catherine averted her eyes back to her desk. "I'm just tired. Working a lot."

"Ya, think!" Tess said. "Like … ten hours a day, seven days a week."

"Lots of people out sick or taking time off. Someone has to cover."

"Yeah, but it doesn't always have to be you," Tess exclaimed.

Catherine heaved a sigh. The last thing she wanted right now was to get into another debate about Vincent. "Not now, Tess. Please."

"Alright. But I'm just saying …" Tess said, the meaning obvious to her unfinished sentence. "I'll see you tomorrow. Get out of here. Go home and get some sleep."

"Promise," Catherine said, reaching up and crossing her heart with her index finger.

Tess gave Catherine an impatient look and shook her head. Then turned and walked away.

Catherine took in a deep breath. She hadn't been sure she'd be able to hold it together before Tess gave up and left. She looked down at her hands as they started to tremble with exhaustion and despair. Clenching her fists together she fought the tears that wanted to spill from her eyes.

 _I'm not going to cry. I am not going to cry_ , she repeated the mantra in her mind. She gritted her teeth and forced her attention back on the patient's chart in front of her. She knew she wouldn't be leaving the hospital any time soon.

* * *

"How's Catherine doing?" JT asked Vincent who hovered over his laptop computer perched on the breakfast bar.

Vincent whipped his head up so quickly his neck cracked. "What?" He was wound so tight he thought he might snap.

"Sorry," JT said. "I meant, Catherine, our pregnant alpaca."

"Oh." Vincent let out breath. "Alex says she's doing great."

"Okay. Good to know," JT said. He paused and then said, "And speaking of Catherine …"

Vincent fixed JT with a glare. "Don't go there, JT. That's off limits."

"One of the things you hired me to do was to protect you. Right?"

"Yeah," Vincent responded, guardedly.

"Well, you didn't limit who I was to protect you from. And right now, I need to protect you from  _yourself_."

"Oh, please," Vincent drawled out, giving JT an eye roll.

"All you've been doing for two months is working your ass off. You hardly eat. I don't know when you sleep, if at all. You're your own worst enemy right now. I'm sworn to protect you. If you don't quit beating up on yourself I might just have to take you down."

Vincent let out a snort. "You and what army?"

"As far as I remember, when we spar I usually beat you two out of three times. So don't push me, bud," JT said, a half-grin on his face.

Vincent relaxed at his best friend's attempt to lighten the mood. And he did appreciate his effort. "I stand notified of a potential ass-whopping if I don't shape-up."

JT stepped over and leaned against the breakfast bar. "You need to do something.  _You_  sent her away.  _You_  need to get her back. It's not her responsibility."

"It was for her own good. She's better off without me," Vincent said, averting his eyes back to his laptop.

"Bullshit," JT said. "You're the best thing that ever happened to her. And she's the best thing that ever happened to you."

"Not true. I've pretty much messed her up."

"That's a load of crap. You forget that you and I became friends in The Sand Box before you met her. I saw what happened to you when you two got together. And she was floating as far off the ground as you were. You guys are meant for each other."

"That was a long time ago. Things are different."

"There is only  _one_  thing that's changed," JT said, "and that's the fact that seven years have gone by. Don't lose another seven." JT pushed off from the counter and walked to the stairs, climbing up to the second floor, leaving Vincent alone.

Vincent looked around the huge living area. The space was hollow and lonely without Catherine. His heart ached at the thought she'd never share their dream that he'd built. Blowing out a long breath he turned his attention back to his computer.

* * *

Catherine laid in her bed, staring up at her bedroom ceiling. The night lights of the city drifted in through her window, shadows dancing off the ceiling and walls. Another restless night of little sleep awaited her and she wasn't looking forward to it. She rolled to her side and settled her head into her pillow.

Reaching over she pulled the soft, silk shirt toward her, bringing it gently to her face. It was the same shirt she'd worn the day Vincent had met her in the coffee shop. The same shirt that had brushed up against him as she slept in the jet with his arm wrapped around her and when he carried her from the jet to the SUV and eventually to her bed. She breathed him in, his scent still lingering on the fabric. She hadn't washed it, trying to preserve that one little bit of Vincent left to her. But time was stealing away even this part of Vincent as his scent grew fainter each day. Time - the unrepentant thief of all things important - was taking its toll on her once again.

Closing her eyes Catherine dared to allow the vision of the snow covered mountains and pastures to visit her. It was a risky indulgence because the glorious beauty always made her sad. But it called to her and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't lessen its pull. Always, Vincent was on the porch, the incredible log home rising up behind him, smoke curling from the chimney. But he stood solitary on the portico, his eyes searching the horizon, the ache of loneliness filling his face. She knew that ache. It was like a dagger piercing her soul, leaving a festering wound that would never heal.

She buried her head further into the shirt, knowing that morning was a long, torturous way off.

* * *

The night was a canvas of infinite stars. Even the silhouettes of the mountains were visible, the starlight was so intense. Vincent's slow, steady breath turned into steam and drifted upward in the frigid air.

He stepped down from the porch and walked away from the house to get a better view, craning his neck to take in the vastness of the universe. Other than a few stray lights glimmering through the trees from houses miles away, the night was dark, but lit brilliantly. Like always in the middle of winter the night was deathly quiet, only the crunch of the snow under his boots meeting his ears. Every so often the low hoot of an owl or the yapping of a coyote far in the distance could be heard, both searching for a meal in order to survive in the dead of winter. The Central Oregon nights, more than anything, had convinced him to spend his life here.

Making the best of another sleepless night Vincent leaned against a fence post and gazed across the moonless sky. He turned east and his thoughts sailed across the mountains and plateaus, the plains and farmland, all the way to Lake Michigan and the Windy City gracing its shore - to Catherine. He wondered if she ever looked up into the night sky and how many of the same stars she could see. He hadn't even had a chance to share this miracle with her - to let her see a universe of stars in all their glory.

But even an infinite universe of stars wasn't enough to fill the empty chasm in his chest.

* * *

Catherine blew out a frustrated breath that pushed the long curl of hair away from her face as she stared in the mirror.

"You … look …  _hot_ ," Tess said, standing behind her.

Sheathed in a spaghetti-strap, form fitting, black cocktail dress with matching three inch heels Catherine had to admit she looked pretty darn good.

The winter holidays had come and gone and she had managed to avoid all of the parties and gatherings traditional to the season. When one worked all the time one didn't have time to party.

But Tess hadn't given in when it came to New Year's Eve. She'd dragged Catherine through the gauntlet of spa, hair, manicure, pedicure, waxing and everything imaginable in her effort to bolster Catherine's spirits and guilt-trip her into coming to the hospital's New Year's Eve party. Sure, she looked good, even great, but to what end? Still, Tess had made the effort, so she would go and do her best to have a good time.

Maybe this was what she needed after all. She was tired of the emptiness and depression that had dogged her over the past months. Maybe this was the beginning of a change. She nodded to herself in the mirror. Yes. It was a new year and she could resolve to make it exactly that - a  _new_ year. Let the past year be done and over with. Catherine forced a smile and turned to Tess.

"Let's go knock 'em dead," she said.

Tess grinned. "That's my girl."

* * *

Vincent loosened the burgundy tie around the collar of his crisp, white shirt and unbuttoned the jacket of his Armani suit. JT sat across from him in the Learjet, Joe assuming piloting duties.

"Whew," Vincent said. "That was some negotiation."

"Yeah, but you kicked butt!" JT said. "Congratulations. That's got to be one of the biggest contracts you've ever won. And Manhattan isn't that far from Corporate. It'll be easy to service that account for a long time."

"Nice to land a big one every now and then," Vincent said, unenthusiastically. He was exhausted and what normally would have been an exhilarating experience - the design of a complex proposal and the negotiation of a lucrative contract - seemed like another mundane day.

"You know what tonight is, don't you?" JT asked.

Vincent gave him a puzzled look.

"Oh, come on! You can't be that out-of-it."

"Sorry. Don't have a clue."

"Dude, it's New Year's Eve. The time of renewal. Time to start fresh."

"Maybe," Vincent said. "I suppose it's not a good start to spend it alone in a jet flying from New York to Oregon - no offense to present company."

JT chuckled. "None taken." He raised an impish eyebrow. "I took the liberty of stashing a bottle of champaign in the fridge. You can toast in the new year. And since we're flying west, you can toast midnight as we cross each time zone. Hell, by the time we hit Oregon you'll be sloshed."

Vincent let out a full-throated laugh and saw JT smile at his response. JT was the  _best_  and he was grateful to have him as a friend.

 _Time for renewal. Time to start fresh._  Maybe for most people. Maybe even for him.

Vincent scrubbed his hand through his hair. He was so tired of feeling empty, lifeless, of just going through the motions. He'd thought those feelings would have eventually evaporated with time. But who was he fooling. He'd spent seven years waiting for time to erase his feelings for Catherine and even when he thought she was dead time didn't take care of that problem for him. And time wouldn't take care of this problem, either.

He had to be the one to deal with these feelings of emptiness and despair. He had to do something - to act. He couldn't sit around any longer. That plan just wasn't working.

 _New Year's Eve. Time for a change_ , he thought.

Vincent snapped his head up to JT. "Where are we?"

"Probably passing over Western Pennsylvania about now," JT responded.

Vincent pulled out his phone and busied himself, his fingers flying across the screen. After a minute he looked up at JT. "Call Corporate. Have them change our flight plan. We're making a detour."


	16. Chapter 16

The banquet room at the top of the downtown Chicago Hilton looked east across Grant Park, out onto the vast expanse of Lake Michigan.  Even at night the view was spectacular.  Catherine leaned against the balcony railing, shivering, a light burgundy shawl drapped over he shoulders.  Sipping from a bottle of imported water she glanced back through the huge sliding glass door at the revelry of several hundred happy - and mostly intoxicated - coworkers celebrating the approaching new year.

For the first hour she’d valiantly made her way through the room, right on Tess’ heels, chatting with old acquaintances and being introduced to some of the newer staff at the hospital.  More than once she caught different men surreptitiously checking her out, their sidelong glances lingering on her as she walked by.  It made her feel attractive and it had been a long time since Catherine had been in a situation where a man could appreciate her.  She’d never considered herself a beauty, but it was nice to know she was still desirable.  The problem was, she didn’t want to be appreciated by any of the men in the room.  The man she wanted staring at her would never see her again.  

Most everyone at the hospital knew she was unattached and a short time after she’d arrived at the celebration a parade of men began to line up to talk to her.  It wasn’t like a queue, each man waiting his turn.  It was more subtle.  One attractive doctor or wealthy donor would sidle up to her and attempt to engage her in conversation.  She’d nod and chat for a while, and then gratefully follow Tess who would move to the next group of people.  She apologized and excused herself from the conversation, dutifully following her friend.

As Tess wished another group of friends a happy holiday and moved away, she stopped abruptly and spun around causing Catherine to jerk to a halt.  “Okay,” Tess said, “you have got to quit following me.  Go mingle, talk to people.  I don’t need a shadow.”

Catherine felt a tinge of panic.  “I … I don’t know what to talk about.”

“Come on, Chandler.  You’re a doctor, for pity’s sake.  An educated, smart, experienced - and smoking’ hot - woman.  Have you even noticed that every guy in the room is checking you out?”

The heat of a blush filled her face.  “Yeah, and it’s embarrassing." 

Tess let out s snort.  “Embarrassing!  I should be so lucky to be embarrassed like that.”

“What do you mean?  You’re beautiful and exotic and can kick-ass as well.”

“Maybe.  But they’re not looking at me.  They’re looking at you.”

Just then Tess’s phone chirped and she pulled it from her clutch.  After a moment her eyes went wide and she caught her breath.  She paused, then her fingers tapped rapidly on the screen.  Her phone chirped again and she tapped out another message.  Scanning the screen one more time she put it away.

“Are you on call?” Catherine asked.  Tess was staring at the floor and didn’t seem to hear her.  “Tess?”

Tess jerked her head up.  “Huh?”  

“Are you on call?  Is everything okay?

“Oh.  No and yes.  No, not on call.  Yes, everything is okay.  Definitely … okay,” Tess responded.

Catherine looked around the crowded room and sighed. “I think I’ll go home."

“No!” Tess barked.  

Catherine took at step back at Tess’ intensity.

After a moment Tess’ face softened and her voice relaxed.  “I mean, no, you can’t go.  Not until after midnight.  Not until we celebrate the new year.”

“Tess, it’s only ten-thirty.  That’s another hour and a half.”

“Please,” Tess pleaded.  “Don’t leave me alone.”

“You just told me to quit following you.  I think I’m probably cramping your style and it might be better for you if I was gone. ”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Tess said.  “You’re my wingman and you can’t leave me.”

Catherine frowned, confused at her friend’s sudden change of attitude. 

“Look,” Tess said,  “I’ll quit bugging you.  Forget about chatting-up guys.  You can hang with me.  You can hang out by yourself.  You can hang out in the lady’s room.  I don’t care.  Just … don’t leave.  Not yet." 

Catherine sighed.  “Fine.  No more pushing me to talk to every guy in the room?” she said, raising her eyebrow in challenge.

“You’ve got it.  I will cease and desist,” Tess said.

So Catherine had continued to mingle, still uncomfortable under the desirous gaze of so many men, but knowing that just after midnight she had a bona-fide escape clause approved by her friend.

Catherine turned back toward the lake, pushing up against the balcony railing and took another sip of her water.  Another shiver of cold went through her and she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to use the balcony as refuge before the cold forced her back inside.  She looked at her watch.  Five minutes to midnight.  She could gut out another five minutes in the cold, then dash inside at midnight, give Tess a celebratory hug and head on home.

The swoosh of the balcony’s door reached her ears as it opened and closed behind her.  Great.  Just great.  She’d been enjoying her solitude and now someone had the audacity to intrude.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind her - a man.  Probably Gabe, who she’d been trying to dodge all night.  Or maybe Evan.  In the time they’d been together he’d developed friends at the hospital and he’d been invited to tonight's party.  Or maybe - God forbid - it was some egotistic, self-absorbed rich guy who’d found her and was making his move.  She didn’t turn around, trying to give off an air of indifference, which was hard to do when shivering.

The footsteps came closer and stopped behind her.  She was startled as something was draped over her shoulders and curled around her.  She looked down at the lapels of a man’s suit jacket - a very nice and very expensive suit jacket.  But she had resolved herself to not take the bait.  She wasn’t going to give this guy the benefit of a reaction.  She’d just shrug the jacket off, wish him a good evening, walk back into the banquet hall and lose herself in the crowd.

She felt the man step back a respectable distance.  At least he wasn’t so obnoxious as to crowd into her personal space.  As Catherine reached with her free hand to push off the jacket her face turned into the lapel.  She froze as a scent filled her nose.  It was familiar.  She returned her hand to the railing and breathed in again, unwilling to believe her senses.  One more breath.  It wasn’t possible.

For an instant Catherine gripped the balcony railing as her knees threatened to buckle.  Her heart pounded and she took in several quick breaths, trying to regain her balance and focus her senses.  She didn’t turn, but stood, immobile, still facing the lake.

A tense moment passed.  Then another.  The low background rumble of the party permeated the balcony door.  The sound of traffic, sparse at this late hour, floated up from below.  

 _This late hour.  It’s late.  Almost midnight,_ she thought.  Almost midnight on New Year’s Eve.  And _he_ was here.

She took in a breath, fighting hard not to shudder.  “Thank you,” she said quietly.  She let out a short laugh.  “First, the coffee shop and now, here.  You’d think I’d learn not to run around Chicago without a coat.”

“Not to worry.  It gives me something to do,” came Vincent’s gravely voice from behind her, sending tingles down her spine. 

Still facing the lake, Catherine said, “How did you find me?”

“I texted Tess.  She told me about the party.”

“So that’s why she was so set on me staying.”

“You were going to leave?”

“No reason to stick around.”

“I saw Lowen and Marks as Tess brought me through the crowd to the balcony,” he said.  “I’m sure they’d enjoy your company.”

“I have no interest in Gabe.  And Evan and I got a divorce,” she said, matter of factly.

“So I’ve heard,” Vincent said, matching her tone, then letting out a soft chuckle.  “Tess made sure to mention that to me just now - twice.”

“So, you see,” Catherine said, “no reason to stick around.”

Catherine heard Vincent step up close behind her, but he still didn’t touch her or brush against her.  She could feel the heat radiating off his body and part of her ached for him to press his warm chest into her back, while another part warned her to keep her distance.  She found it harder to breathe and her stomach was tied up in knots

“Could I be that reason?” Vincent asked.

Catherine hesitated, then turned to face him.  “Do you want to be?” 

His brow was scrunched in worry, small wrinkles radiating out from the corners of his eyes.  She met his green eyes, soft and swirling with emotion.  Her mind flashed to the desert village when their eyes had first met as he’d helped her out of the Humvee.  Despite the intervening years they were the same eyes with the power to look deep into her, to captivate her.  

“Yes,” he said.  “I want to be.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have any other choice.”

“But, you do.”

“I don’t,” Vincent said.  “I thought I did.  I thought I had the choice to protect you, to push you away and keep you from being hurt because you loved me.  But I was wrong.  I can’t push you away any more.  It’s not for me to make that decision for you.  I see that now, and I’m sorry.  If you decide we shouldn’t be together, then I can accept that." 

He took a step closer, reaching out to softly touch her cheek.  His rough hands felt good on her skin, familiar and warm.

 “I don’t want to push you away, either,” Catherine said.  “And I’m sorry I let you push me away.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.  It was my-” 

She placed her fingers on his lips, silencing him.  “I have to fight for this relationship too, Vincent.  I can’t just roll-over and let you take on all the responsibility and all the burden.  When you told Evan to take me home I should have spoken up.  I should have made it clear to everyone in the room that - right then and right there - _I was already home_.  And if anyone had any doubts, they just needed to look around.”  She sighed and placed her hand over his as he caressed her cheek.  “But I didn’t.  And I’m sorry.”

“I love you, Catherine.  I have since I first touched you.  I’ve never stopped.  And I never will.”  Vincent brought his other hand gently to Catherine’s face, stepping in close, brushing against her.  “I built a dream.  But I didn’t realize how empty it was until you filled it - and then you were gone and it was empty again.  If it’s not too late - if I haven’t ruined everything - I want to continue to build that dream.  With you.  Together.”

Vincent’s words flowed over her and through her, stealing away the cold emptiness she’d suffered, filling her with a warmth that was, without a doubt, his love for her and her’s for him.  She closed the distance between them and pushed her head into his chest as he dropped his hands to pull her tightly against him.

"I want to go home," Catherine said, a longing deep inside her swelling to the surface. "I want to build my life with you. Build our life. Our dream."

In the background the crowd in the banquet hall laughed and screamed as they counted down the final seconds to midnight.

 Vincent pulled at Catherine’s chin and she tilted her head up to look at him.  “It’s a new year,” he said.

 “Here’s to new beginnings,” Catherine said.

“New beginnings,” he responded, “for us.”

Vincent leaned down and Catherine stretched up until their lips met, christening the new year.


	17. Epilogue

Tires crunched on the gravel driveway as Vincent piloted his SUV into the parking area at the back of his house, pulling up next to Alex Salter’s Jeep.

Looking across to the barn he saw Alex and Catherine talking, smiling and laughing together.  Over the past eight months they had become close friends.  He couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ll take care of your bags,” JT said.  

Vincent nodded, “Thanks, JT.”  

Vincent climbed out of the vehicle into the hot, dry, August air of the Central Oregon summer.  Alex and Catherine walked toward him, still talking and giggling.  As they grew closer Catherine left Alex’s side and ran the final steps to Vincent, throwing her arms around his neck.

“I’ve missed you,” she said and gave him a toe curling kiss.

“Wow,” he said, “I guess you have!”  Glancing over at Alex he caught her beaming smile and he felt his face heat with embarrassment.

“Hey, Alex,” he said.

Her smile broadened into a silly grin.  “Hey, yourself.”

“How’s our alpaca baby?” he asked.

A wistful look filled Alex’s eyes.  “The baby’s doing fine.  She’s healthy and right where she should be at three months.”  Then she let out another giggle.

“Okay…” he said, drawing out the word, a little confused at Alex’s weird mood.

“Well,” Alex said, “I’ve got to be going.  Richardson’s have a new foal I need to check out.”  She turned to Catherine and gave her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.  “See you soon,” she said.

“Soon,” Catherine grinned back at her.

As Alex drove off Vincent waived with one hand, his other arm wrapped around Catherine.  Catherine nuzzled into his side.  She reached up and played with the wedding band on the hand draped over her shoulder, holding the matching band on her hand up next to it, admiring them both.  “I’m so glad you’re home,” she said.

“What, work getting to you?” Vincent teased.

“Hardly,” she said.  “The ER at St. Charles is a piece of cake compared to Mt. Sinai.  And the drive to Bend everyday is glorious.  Do you know that in a couple of places on the road you can see up to seven mountain peaks at one time?”  

Of course he knew.  And she knew he knew.  But it still amazed him, and he was grateful that Catherine marveled at the natural beauty that surrounded them as much as he.

Catherine reached up and pulled Vincent’s head down for another incredible kiss.

“I need to leave and come back more often,” he said, breathlessly, when Catherine eventually broke the kiss.

“I’ve got some good news,” Catherine said.

“Yeah?  Is that what you and Alex were going on about when I drove up?”

“As a matter of fact, it is.”

“Well?” Vincent said.

“Catherine’s pregnant.”

“Really?  That’s great!  I was hoping she’d breed again, but I wasn’t sure she would this summer.  Did Alex just figure that out?”

“Yes,” Catherine drawled out, “she just found out.”  

Vincent pulled back, trying to decipher the coy smile on Catherine’s face.  

“In fact,” Catherine said, “I’m the one who told her.” 

“ _You_ told her?” Vincent said, incredulous.  “How did you figure it out before the vet - who I pay good money to - found out?”

“It was the ultrasound,” Catherine said.

“Ultrasound?  What ultrasound?” Vincent said, his mind whirling, trying to make sense of the conversation. He looked at Catherine who stood still, an expectant look on her face.

He froze.  Possibilities clicking into place.  Hope against hope surged through him.  He felt his heart start to pound and goosebumps broke out on his arms as the realization hit him.

Vincent captured Catherine’s eyes.  They were the same eyes that had captivated him as she’d taken his hand and climbed out of the Humvee years before.  The eyes of the woman he loved more than life itself.

“Really?” he whispered.

Catherine nodded, her smile beaming across her face.  “Yes,” she whispered back.

A myriad of emotions washed over Vincent - joy, gratitude, amazement.  He pulled Catherine into him, pressing his cheek to the top of her head.  Tears begin to drip into her hair.  He could feel the wetness of Catherine’s tears on his shirt.  

After a moment they pulled apart enough to look into each other’s eyes.

“So,” Vincent said, “we get to keep building this dream, together.”

Catherine nodded.  “Together,” she said.  “Never apart.  Always together.”

“Always together,” Vincent affirmed and pulled her tight against him.

### The End ###


End file.
